"What's that? What's that?" said Ted quickly.
It was the sound of a gun not far away. It might be the answer of other bands of pine robbers to the volley which had just been fired; and hurriedly throwing the body of Fenton into the wagon, the sergeant turned his horses about and started swiftly back up the road.
CHAPTER XXXII
CONCLUSION
In spite of the heavy sand the horses were driven swiftly, until their heaving sides and dripping flanks compelled their driver to give them a much-needed rest. Ted Wilson and one of the soldiers then leaped lightly to the ground and ran into the woods on either side of the road to ascertain whether they were pursued or not.
As the silence of the great forest was unbroken they speedily returned, and the flight was resumed. No one was concealed beneath the straw in the wagon-box now, and every one stood waiting and ready to share in the defense which at any moment might become necessary.
On past the tall pine-trees, on through the heavy sandy road, rushed the returning party, and at last, when they obtained a glimpse of the open country, they breathed a sigh of relief as they realized that the danger of immediate pursuit was gone. It was not until nearly a year after this time that they learned that the gun they had heard had been discharged by De Bow, the desperate leader of another band of outlaws as evil in every way as those whom the detested Fenton had himself led.
It was near the close of the day when the party, of which Little Peter was a member, drove up to Monmouth Court-House. Carelessly, almost brutally, the sergeant and one of his companions seized the body of the dead outlaw, and flinging it from the wagon into one of the trenches the soldiers had made, shouted, "Here's a cordial for your tories and wood robbers!"