"It can only be death," echoed Ferror, "and I welcome it. I know, Fred, you look on me as a murderer. I want to show you how I can die in a fair fight."
Fred hardly realized what Ferror was saying; he was debating a plan of attack.
"Ferror," he said, "let us ride leisurely forward until we get within about fifty yards of them. No doubt they know the horses, and will be nonplused as to who we are. When we are close we will charge. It will be all over in a moment—safety or death."
Ferror nodded. He was as pale as his victims of the night before, but his eyes blazed, his teeth were set hard, every muscle was strained.
Just as Fred turned to say, "Now!" Ferror shouted, "Good-bye, Fred," and dashed straight for the horsemen. The movement was so sudden it left Fred slightly behind. The revolvers of the four Confederates blazed, but like a thunderbolt Ferror was on them. The first man and horse went down like a tenpin before the ball of the bowler; the second, and boy and man and both horses went down in an indistinguishable mass together.
As for Fred, not for a second did he lose command of himself or his horse. He saw what was coming, and swerved to the right. Here a single Confederate confronted him. This man's attention had been attracted for a moment to the fate of his comrades in the road, and before he knew it Fred was on him. He raised his smoking revolver to fire, but Fred's revolver spoke first, and the soldier reeled and fell from his saddle.
The road was now open for Fred to escape, but he wheeled his horse and rode back to see what had become of his comrade. One Confederate still sat on his horse unhurt. Seeing Fred, he raised his pistol and fired. Fred felt his left arm grow numb, and then a sensation like that of hot water running down the limb. Before the soldier could fire the second time, a ball from Fred's pistol crashed through his brain, and he fell, an inert mass, in the road. The fight was over.
Of the two Confederates overthrown in the wild charge of Ferror, one was dead, the other was untouched by bullets, but lay groaning with a broken leg and arm. Fred turned his attention to Ferror. He lay partly under his horse, his eyes closed, his bosom stained with blood.
Fred raised his head. "Ferror! Ferror!" he cried, with burning tears.