“Both about the same, sir, I think.”
“It is so unfortunate, sergeant, just at a time like this.”
“Oh, I don’t know, sir; one ought to make the best of things, and weigh one against another.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, sir, we’re bothered a good deal with the darkness, and we’re obliged to do what a human man don’t like to do—trust to a dumb animal instead of himself. Of course that’s bad; but then, on the other side, we’re not running up against any of the enemy, and instead of hunting for hours after a long ride and then not finding what we come for, here we are not having a long dangerous ride at all, and him we wanted to find tumbling right atop of us and in a way of speaking, saying, ‘Looking for me, my lads? Here I am!’”
“Yes, we have been very fortunate,” said Dickenson.
“Fortunate, sir? I call it downright lucky.”
“Of course—it is. But can we do no more?”
“Not that I see, sir—feel, I mean. We might camp down and let the horses feed till daylight.”
“Oh no; let us keep on.”