"I know it," Mrs. Dillard cried like one nearly frantic with apprehension. "I know it, and yet what may be done? It is certain neither of you boys can come as near managing the horse as I, and yet, I am unable to remount."
"Would you venture to lead him back?"
"To what end?"
"Evan and I might push forward on foot, trusting to getting through in time."
"And there is little chance you could succeed, lads. Eighteen miles over this rough road would require certainly no less than six hours, and before that time has passed the redcoats must have overtaken you."
Then Mrs. Dillard turned her attention to soothing the colt, and during five minutes or more the boys waited with ill-concealed impatience as he alternately advanced to receive her caresses, and then reared and plunged when she attempted to throw her arm over his neck.
"It is better we push ahead, trusting to the poor chance of arriving in time, than to stand here idle," Nathan said at length. "I do not believe you could force him to keep the trail even though you succeed in remounting."
"It must be done," Mrs. Dillard cried sharply. "There is no other means by which we may be certain of warning those who are in danger, and the colt shall be made to perform his part."
"How can we help you?"
The anxious woman looked about her an instant as if trying to decide how the task might be accomplished, and then she said in the tone of one who ventures upon an experiment: