But noon is high; what next do?
The woods are mute, and Mosby is the foe.
“Save what we’ve got,” the Major said;
“Bad plan to make a scout too long;
The tide may turn, and drag them back,
And more beside. These rides I’ve been,
And every time a mine was sprung.
To rescue, mind, they won’t be slack—
Look out for Mosby’s rifle-crack.”
“We’ll welcome it! give crack for crack!