”See how many of ’em there is, and act according. If there ain’t more than two we c’n rope ’em and git their horses, but we must do it w’thout our pistols.”
”All right,” I whispered; ”I’m ready.”
We went forward a few steps, and there, not twenty paces from us, at the edge of a wide open field, loomed the figures of two pickets, seated on their horses. We crept a few steps nearer till we could hear their conversation, and paused to listen. They were grumbling about the hardship of standing picket ‘way off where nobody ever came, and half a mile from any of the others, and they swore, half laughing, that they had been freezing there a month, and would never be relieved. One rallied the other on being afraid of the dead men in the field before them, and then, with an oath, said he was ready for dead or living, and that he had balls enough for both.
Ben placed his mouth to my ear and breathed the words, not spoke them:
”It is all right, they’re alone, and will be sho to surrender when we tell ’em. But be ready with your pistol if the worse comes to the worse; we may have to shoot a little to git the horses.”
I shuddered at the thought; for while I had been in many battles, where the balls fell like hail, and never yet shrunk from duty, yet there was something so secret, and, I must confess, frightful in this contemplated hand-to-hand encounter, with an adversary each, out in the lonely night, with no eye to mark our victory or death, that I fain would have avoided it. I ventured to whisper to Ben:
”As there is no special necessity for attacking them, had we not better go around them and hasten to our lines? An attempt to take them will probably lead to an alarm and our own capture. You know I am with you wherever there is need, but I had rather be prudent now, for Carlotta’s sake.”
”’Twon’t do for soldiers to think of the home folks, John, if they’re going to fight right; it makes ’em too soft in the heart. But them fellows ‘ve got two good horses, and we can take ’em in so nice. My rule is to never let a Yankee off; and, if you’d ruther not, I’ll try the game by myself.”
”You must beg my pardon for that insult, Ben, or you and I will fight,” I said, in the same low tone, but with a flush on my face at his insinuation.