“Keep on your back!” he ordered. “The men are on the other bank.”
None too soon had he executed this manœuvre. He and George could hear, above the noise of the rushing stream, the tones of their pursuers. They had just reached the river, and must be searching for the two Northerners. More than once the hound gave a loud whine, as if he were baffled or disappointed.
“They can’t be here,” came a voice from across the river. “We had better go back; they may be down the railroad track.”
“Perhaps they swam across the stream,” urged some one else.
“That would be certain death!” answered the first voice.
There was a whining from the dog, as if he had discovered a scent. Then a simultaneous cry from several sturdy lungs. “Look at these coats and boots!” “They did try to cross, after all.” “Well, they never got over in this current!” “They must have been carried down the Chickamauga and been drowned!” Such were the exclamations which were wafted to the ears of the two fugitives behind the rock.
None too Soon Had He Executed this Manœuvre