The pursuit, conducted with such vigor, soon led to the top of the
mountain, and they began the descent of the far side. Several more shots
were fired, but they did no damage, and neither side was able to gain.
Two of the fugitives turned aside into the woods, but the pursuit kept
straight after Slade, and his remaining companion, a slender, youthful
figure.

"I think we'll get 'em," panted the sergeant. As he spoke one of the
little mountain rivers so numerous in that region came into view.
It was narrow, but deep, and without hesitating an instant the fugitives
sprang into it and shot down the stream, swimming with all their strength,
and helped by the powerful current.

Slade was in advance, and he was already disappearing in the shadows on
the far bank, but his comrade, he of the slender figure, was still in the
moonlight, which fell across his face for a moment. A soldier raised his
rifle to fire, but Dick stumbled and fell against him and the bullet went
high in the air.

The moment had been long enough for Dick to recognize Victor Woodville.
He did not know how he happened to be with Slade, but he did not intend
that he should be shot there in the water, and his impulse was quick
enough to save Victor's life. In another moment the young Mississippian
was gone also in the shadows, and although several of the Union men swam
the river they could discover no trace of either.

"I'm sorry," said the sergeant as they walked back to the other side of
the mountain, "that they got away."