"Alibamo! Alibamo!"
"Stop his mouth—tear his tongue out. He shall not speak your name."
Branch struck the fallen man across his face with his heavy iron scabbard. The blood spirted from his mouth and nostrils, but he moved not. As the soldiers applied the fluid to his wounds, Hayward showed evidence of pain, but did not speak.
"The ball has passed directly under the right arm, and must have entered the lungs. He will not live," said one of the soldiers.
"He shall live!" cried Branch. "He must live. Tie him on one of the horses and let us be off."
This order was obeyed promptly. It seemed as if the fiend which urged on the actions of that bad man, had, from very shame, left his breast, and he silently took the lead, and with Alibamo by his side, the squadron set off at a rapid rate.
For many miles they kept on their course toward the camp of the rebels. At length they turned their direction across the mountain. As they ascended to the summit, Alibamo asked:
"Whither are you going, Branch?"
"Look yonder. Don't you see the army moving. It is our army. We are going to Springfield."
"You are retreating like cowards as you are!" replied Alibamo, with a sneer.