A sound, at first very faint, became more and more distinct as they listened. Galloping horsemen and the rattle of sabres proclaimed the approach of cavalry.
“Back into the woods,” urged Watson. “We may be putting ourselves in a trap—but for the life of me I don’t know where else to go!”
They hurried into the wood, where they crawled under a scrubby pine bush, and anxiously awaited the outcome. On rushed the horsemen until they reached the outskirts of the wood. Here they halted. The hiders under the pine bush could hear one of the officers say: “The infantry will soon be here to relieve us.”
“We’ve had a great time to-night,” growled another officer. “These Yankees, not content with troubling us on the battle-field, must even stir things up when they are prisoners.”
“I don’t wonder those locomotive-stealers wanted to escape,” laughed the first officer. “They know what the punishment of a spy always is.”
In a few minutes a company of infantry marched to the scene. After a short conference between their officers and those of the cavalry the horsemen galloped away. The infantry were now formed into squads, and sent to keep guard in the woods.
“Things are getting rather warm!” whispered Watson. George murmured an assent. Well might he do so, for a sentry had soon been posted within fifty feet of the two fugitives. The situation was fraught with the greatest danger. Watson and George realized that the soldiers would patrol the woods until morning, when discovery would be inevitable.
Watson sank his voice so low that it could just be heard by his companion.
“We can’t afford to stay here until daylight,” he whispered. “We must wriggle out of here until we come to the edge of the road. Then we must make a break and run.”
“Run where?” asked George.