“Then I’ll make my face pass us. Everybody about here knows Leon Sprague.”
They had something more to do in coming up with the wagon, for Cuff, when he struck the main road, kept on “the best he knew how,” so they had almost reached the bridge when they came within sight of his span of mules. After a short consultation it was decided that Leon and Tom should go on ahead to smooth the way for the fugitives, leaving them to follow with the team; so they galloped their horses and presently heard a voice ordering them to halt. By this time it was almost sunrise, and Leon, profiting by the experience of the old soldier, didn’t say he had the countersign. He and Tom stopped and got off their horses.
“Well, I declare, it’s you, ain’t it?” said the one who came out to see who and what they were. “Did you see anything of the rebels last night?”
“I should say we did,” returned Leon, with a laugh. “We stood right by and saw Mr. Dawson’s house burn up.”
“Was that before they fired into us?”
“Why, I didn’t hear anything about that. Did they shoot into you?”
“Yes, sir; and they killed Bach Noble as dead as a hammer. You see he was standing guard when they crept up and had no show to defend himself; but we got the better of them.”
“What did you do with Bach?”
“We laid him out there in the bushes and sent a man up to Ellisville after a wagon to take him home. He was the first man killed on our side, but I’ll bet he ain’t the last.”
“You are sergeant of this post, are you not?”