A sudden thought had leaped up in Dick's mind and it set his pulses to beating hard. He remembered some earlier words of Red Blaze's.
“We'll go by before they reach the main road,” replied Red Blaze, “unless they make their hosses travel a lot faster than they're travelin' now.”
“Then suppose we whip up a little,” said Dick.
Both Red Blaze and the sergeant gave him searching glances.
“Do you mean—” began Whitley.
“Yes, I mean it. I know it. The man in front wearing the fur cap is Bill Skelly. He and his men made an attack upon the home of my uncle, Colonel Kenton, who is a Southern leader in Kentucky. He and his band were Northerners there, but they will be Southerners here, if it suits their purpose.”
“An' it will shorely suit their purpose to be Southerners now,” said Red Blaze. “We three are ridin' mighty good hoss flesh. Me an' the sergeant have good rifles an' pistols, you have good pistols, an' we all have good, big overcoats. This is a lonely mountain side with war flyin' all about us. Easy's the place an' easy's the deed. That is if we'd let 'em, which we ain't goin' to do.”
“Not by a long shot,” said Sergeant Whitley, resting his rifle across the pommel of his saddle. “They've got to follow straight behind. The ground is too rough for them to ride around an' flank us.”
Dick said nothing, but his gauntleted hand moved down to the butt of one of his pistols. His heart throbbed, but he preserved the appearance of coolness. He was fast becoming inured to danger. Owing to the slope they could not increase the speed of their horses greatly, but they were beyond the mouth of the path before they were seen by Skelly and his band. Then the big mountaineer uttered a great shout and began to wave his hand at them.
“The road curves here a little among the rocks,” said the sergeant, who unconsciously took command. “Suppose we stop, sheltered by the curve, and ask them what they want.”