“No, Billy,” replied Dalton. “You see we're only three, and there must be at least three hundred down there.”
“But we've been hearin' that Stonewall Jackson's men never mind a hundred to one,” said Billy, in an aggrieved tone. “We hear that's just about what they like.”
“No, Billy, my boy. We don't fight a hundred to one. Nobody does, unless it's like Thermopylae and the Alamo.”
“Then what are we going to do?” continued Billy in his disappointed tone.
“I think, Billy, that Harry and I are going to dismount, slip down the mountainside, see what we can see, hear what we can hear, and that you'll stay here, holding and guarding the horses until we come back.”
“I won't!” exclaimed Billy in violent indignation. “I won't, Cousin George. I'm going down the mountain with you an' Mr. Kenton.”
“Now, Billy,” said Dalton soothingly, “you've got a most important job here. You're the reserve, and you also hold the means of flight. Suppose we're pursued hotly, we couldn't get away without the horses that you'll hold for us. Suppose we should be taken. Then it's for you to gallop back with the news that Shields' whole army will be in the pass in the morning, and under such circumstances, your mother would send you on to General Jackson with a message of such immense importance.”
“That's so,” said Billy with conviction, in the face of so much eloquence and logic, “but I don't want you fellows to be captured.”
Dalton and Harry dismounting, gave the reins of their horses into the hands of Billy, and the small fingers clutched them tightly.
“Stay exactly where you are, Billy,” said Harry. “We want to find you without trouble when we come back.”