"I know—it's Deering's hired man."
"You don't say so!" This seemed like the truth.
"I know who it is—it's Sam Harding," shouted Milton. "But that ain't Deering's horse. It's a Republican trick. Jump y'r horse there, Councill." He was carried out of himself by his excitement and anger. The men leaped upon their horses.
"Some o' you fellers take his back trail," shouted Councill. "He'll come from Shell-rock and Hell's Corner."
The men saw the whole trick. This man had been sent out to the most populous of the county voting places to spread a lying report, trusting to the surprise of the announcement to carry a few indecisive votes for Russell.
Other men leaped their horses and rode off on Harding's back trail, while Councill, Milton, and old man Bacon rode away after him. Bacon growled as he rode:
"I'm agin you fellers, but by God! I b'lieve in a square game. If I kin git my paw on that houn'"—
They rode furiously in the hope of overtaking him before he reached the next polling-place. Milton was in the lead on his gray colt, a magnificent creature. He was light and a fine rider, and forged ahead of the elder men. But the "spy" was also riding a fine horse, and was riding very fast.
When they reached the next polling-place he was just passing out of sight beyond. They dashed up, scattering the wondering crowd.
"It's a lie! It's a trick!" shouted Milton. "Deering wouldn't withdraw. Cast every vote for Deering. It's all done to fool yeh!"