"You do. Warner and Pennington are ready now, and your own horse is
waiting for you. Here is a small map which I have reason to believe is
accurate, at least fairly so, although few of our men know much of this
country. But use it, lad, as best you can."

It was a sheet of thick fibrous paper about six inches square and,
after a hasty glance at it, Dick folded it up carefully and put it in his
pocket. Warner and Pennington appeared then, mounted and armed and ready
to tell him good-bye. He and Colonel Winchester watched them a moment or
two as they rode away, and then an orderly appeared with Dick's own horse,
a fine bay, saddled, bridled, saddlebags filled with food, pistols in
holsters, and a breech-loading rifle strapped to the saddle.

"I've made your equipment the best I could," said Colonel Winchester,
"and after you start, lad, you must use your own judgment."

He wrung the hand of the boy, for whom his affection was genuine and deep,
and Dick sprang into the saddle.

"Good-bye, colonel," he said, "I thank you for this trust, and I won't
fail."

It was not a boast. It was courage speaking from the heart of youth and,
as Dick rode out of the camp on his good horse, he considered himself
equal to any task. He felt an enormous pride because he was chosen for
such an important and perilous mission, and he summoned every faculty to
meet its hardships and dangers.

He had the password, and the sentinels wished him good luck. So did the