"That ought to be easy." Boyd's enthusiasm was at the boiling point. "The Yankees are all cowards—"
Kirby straightened in his saddle, the lazy good humor gone from his face.
"Kid, don't git so lippy 'bout what you ain't rightly learned yet. Yankees can fight—they can fight good. You saw 'em do that today. And don't you ever forgit it!"
Boyd was disconcerted, but he clung doggedly to his belief. "One of Morgan's men can take on five Yankees."
Drew laughed dryly. "You saw that happen just this mornin', Boyd. And what happened? We ran. They fight just as hard and as long, and most of them just as tough as we do. And don't ever think that the man facin' you across a gun is any less than you are; maybe he's a little better. Keep that in mind!"
"Yes, you read the aces an' queens in your hand 'fore you spreads your money out recklesslike," Kirby agreed. "So, if we find the right setup, we move, but—"
Drew swung up one hand in the horseman's signal of warning. "Something—or someone—is on the move ... ahead there!" he warned.