"What is it?"
"I can't send you forward now—in the face of that fire. And, for that matter, I can't send you to the rear. In five minutes this road will be glutted with cavalry and guns."
"Never mind, Morrison," the Southerner returned. "I couldn't go now—anyway."
"Why?"
Cary opened out his hands in a simple gesture. "Because, in case of trouble for you at headquarters, I'm still your prisoner." With his eyes brave and steady on the others he took the newly written pass from his breast—and tore it in pieces. "When you want me," he said, "you'll find me—here."
If there had been time for argument Morrison would have hotly protested against such self-sacrifice, but events were crowding upon them too fast. From down the road came the sound of furious galloping. Almost at once Lieutenant Harris, riding hard at the head of a troop of cavalry, swept round the curve and drew his horse upon his haunches.
"Colonel Morrison!" he shouted. "You are ordered—"
"One moment, Lieutenant," interrupted Morrison in tones so even that Cary marveled at his composure, "Did you get Corporal Dudley?"
Cary's ears ached for the answer. He knew just as well as the questioner the danger which might now be disclosed or be forever forgotten and his heart went out to the other in this moment of hideous suspense.
There was an instant of hesitation and then came the answer.