"Bruno," said Harry, "I don't want them to see you. Go and hide, and don't come till I whistle."
The dog slunk into the woods that grew along the road, and in a twinkling was out of sight. The scouts marvelled. "Why, he is human," said one.
"Almost, but not quite, about some things," answered Harry.
The band of guerrillas had seen them, and halted, and were scanning them carefully, as if debating whether to advance or not.
"They seem to be a little afraid," laughed Harry. "Let's ride leisurely forward, as if satisfied."
As they approached, the guerrillas made a movement as if to raise their guns, but evidently thought better of it, and sat still to await their coming, but with hands on the butts of their revolvers.
"Hello, boys; whar yo' uns goin'?" called out Harry, as he came up. "The way yo' uns act, yo' uns must think we' uns air Yanks."
"Who be yo' uns, an' whar be yo' uns goin'?" the leader asked, scowling.
"We' uns? We' uns air from Franklin County. We' uns was a little too close to St. Louis to be healthy for sich fellers as we' uns, so we reckoned we' uns would come over and join Poindexter. Do yo' uns know whar we' uns can find him?"
"Don't know an' don't care," growled the leader. "Yo' uns had better come with we' uns. Had enough of stand-up fightin'! We' uns was with Porter at Kirksville, and got hell kicked out of us."