Si and Shorty dashed out of the house and started for the reserve, at the highest speed of which their legs were capable. On clattered the horses, and a few shots from the carbines of the swift-riding horsemen whistled through the air.
Six feet at a jump, with thumping hearts and bulging eyes, the fugitives almost flew over the ground, throwing quick glances at their pursuers, and then ahead, in the hope of catching a glimpse of succor.
"Shorty, if we only git out o' this—" but Si found he hadn't any wind to spare to finish the sentence. We must leave to the reader's imagination the good resolutions as to his future conduct that were forming in Si's mind at this critical juncture. He saw the awful consequences of yielding to the influence of that alluring young woman and her seductive dinner. What he had read about Adam and the trouble Eve got him into, in pretty much the same way, flashed before him. It was a good time to resolve that he wouldn't do so any more.
Shorty, long and lank, was swifter on his feet than Si. Hardtack and bacon had not yet reduced the latter's surplus flesh to a degree that enabled him to run well. Shorty kept ahead, but would not desert his comrade, slowing up for an instant now and then to give Si, who was straining to the utmost every nerve, and puffing like a locomotive on an upgrade, a chance to keep within supporting distance.
The soldiers of the reserve taking the alarm, came out at a double-quick and were fortunately able to cover the retreat of Si and Shorty. The half dozen cavalrymen, upon the appearance of so large a force, turned their horses and galloped away.
"Hello, Si," said the Orderly of Co. Q, "yer ear's bleedin'. What hurt ye?"
"Fell down and scratched it on a brier!" said Si, as soon as he was able to speak.
That night Si and Shorty sat on a log by the campfire talking over the events of the day.