“Hark! What is that?” said Hollister, pricking up his ears. “I’ll swear that was a human pistol, and one from our regiment. Rear rank, close to the front!” A volley of musketry now rattled in the night wind, and the sergeant exclaimed:
“March!—Quick time!”
The next instant the trampling of a horse was heard coming up the road at a rate that announced a matter of life or death.
“Stand! Who goes there?” shouted Hollister.
“Ha! Hollister, is that you?” cried Lawton; “ever ready and at your post; but where is the guard?”
“At hand, sir, and ready to follow you through thick and thin.”
“’Tis well!” said the trooper, riding up to his men; then, speaking a few words of encouragement, he led them down the valley at a rate but little less rapid than his approach.
On arriving near the gates of the Locusts, the trooper halted his party and made his arrangements for the assault. Dismounting, he ordered eight men to follow his example, and, turning to Hollister, said:
“Stand you here and guard the horses; if any attempt to pass, stop it, or cut it down, and—” The flames at this moment burst through the dormer-windows[96] and cedar roof of the cottage, and a bright light glared on the darkness of the night. “On!” shouted the trooper, “on! Give quarter when justice is done!”