"You can depend on that," said Hale.
"Are the teamsters armed?" asked Lawrence.
"Only about half of them are enlisted men. They are armed."
"See that their guns are loaded and ready for instant use."
The teamsters were astonished and considerably excited when the order came, but they were told that it was merely a matter of precaution, and that there was no cause for alarm.
On the morning of the third day out firing was heard in front. There came a volley followed by fiendish yells and the advance came tearing back, panic-stricken. In a moment everything was in confusion.
Down the train rode the guerrillas, shooting the teamsters and mules, and yelling like devils. Back came Captain Jackson, spurring his horse, his face white with fright.
"Halt," cried Lawrence. But the Captain went past him like a whirlwind, his only thought of escape.
Where the guerrillas had charged the head of the train the ground was open, but where Lawrence was there was a thick growth of bushes on one side of the road and a rough fence built out of logs and rails on the other.
Lawrence ordered one of the teamsters who had not entirely lost his head to swing his wagon across the road, blocking it. Sergeant Strong had succeeded in rallying some ten or twelve of the soldiers, who, springing from their horses, used the mules and wagons for breastworks. Several of the advance guard had been cut off, but they jumped from their horses and, diving under the wagon, continued their flight. Lawrence did not attempt to stop them, for they had lost their arms and would have been of no use.