On we went,—the relics of us. Now we rushed, out of the pine forest into broad moonlight, and I saw two riders between me and the lieutenant,—one man almost at my shoulder, and another galloping ten yards behind. Very gradually this man dropped to the rear. We had lost five men already, and still the night was young.
Bader and Absalom Gray were nearest me. Neither spoke a word till we struck upon a space of sandy road. Then I could hear, far behind the rear man, a sound of galloping on the hard highway.
"They're after us, lieutenant!" shouted Bader.
"Many?" He slacked speed, and we listened attentively.
"Only one," cried Miller. "He's coming fast."
The pursuer gained so rapidly that we looked to our pistols again. Then Absalom Gray cried:
"It's only a horse!"
In a few moments the great gray of fallen Corporal Crowfoot overtook us, went ahead, and slacked speed by the lieutenant.
"Good! He'll be fresh when the rest go down!" shouted Miller. "Let the last man mount the gray!"
By this time we had begun to think ourselves clear of the enemy, and doomed to race on till the horses should fall.