Levi gasped. “Colonel Marion!” he cried.
“At your service, sir. Captain Wilmer is acting as my guide and if he finds you gentlemen here he may have something to say to this matter. Bring out my horse, my friend,” he continued, addressing the old smith.
I rode clear of Levi’s gang, no one raising a hand or attempting to stay me. I ranged myself beside Marion. Levi and his men conferred in low voices, their heads together, their eyes over their shoulders.
Marion turned his back on them while the smith brought out his horse, a beautiful black thorough-bred. I did not wonder that at the sight of it Levi’s greed had been whetted. “I’d have shod him with gold,” Barter said as he held the stirrup, “if I’d known whose he was, Colonel—and a little bit for his own sake. I might have known when I saw him, as he carried no common rider.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Marion said as he settled himself in the saddle. “I won’t offer to pay you.”
“God forbid!” cried the old man.
Marion turned to the five scowling, angry men who still held their ground. Even they were ashamed, I fancy, to back down before one man. “Gentlemen,” he said in a small hard voice. “When I say, Go! I mean, Go.”
“You’re not on the Pee Dee now!” one of the men answered with insolence.
“You can tell that to my men.” he replied. “When they come.”
Far off, breaking the silence of the night, the beat of hoofs came dully to us. Levi heard it, and he turned his horse’s head, and muttered something to his men. “Another day!” he cried aloud—but only to cover his retreat. Then he and these four brave men moved off with what dignity they might. The beat of hoofs came more loudly, and clearly from the eastward. The five began to trot.