think we ought to be there in three or four hours."

"Then lead the way," said Grierson. "Like your colonel, I'll be glad to
have a try at Forrest."

Sergeant Whitley rode in advance. A lumberman first and then a soldier
of the plains, he had noted even in the darkness every landmark and he
could lead the way back infallibly. But he warned Grierson that such a
man as Forrest would be likely to have out scouts, even if they had to
swim the river. It was likely that they could not get nearer by three
or four miles to Colonel Winchester without being seen.

"Then," said Grierson, who had the spirit of a Stuart or a Forrest,
"we'll ride straight on, brushing these watchers out of our way, and if
by any chance their whole force should cross, we'll just meet and fight
it."

"The little river is falling fast," said the sergeant. "It's likely that
it'll be fordable almost anywhere by noon."

"Then," said Grierson, "it'll be all the easier for us to get at the
enemy."

Dick, just behind Grierson, heard these words and he liked them. Here
was a spirit like Colonel Winchester's own, or like that of the great
Southern cavalry leaders. The Southerners were born on horseback,
but the Northern men were acquiring the same trick of hard riding.
Dick glanced back at the long column. Armed with carbine and saber the
men were riding their trained horses like Comanches. Eager and resolute
it was a formidable force, and his heart swelled with pride and