"Don't leave me, partner!" he panted. "I'm a sinful man. I ain't fit to die. You're young and strong—save me!"
The dead weight was pulling him down and John shook the fellow off with an angry jerk.
"To hell with you!"
They suddenly came to a lot of horses hid in the woods, rearing and plunging and neighing madly.
John swerved out of their way and an officer rushed up to him crying:
"Why don't you take a horse?"
He looked at him in a dazed way before he could realize his meaning.
"Take a horse!" he yelled. "The rebels will get 'em if you don't——"
The men were too intent on running to try to save horses. Horses would have to look out for themselves.
It suddenly occurred to John that a horse might go faster. Funny he hadn't thought of it at once. He turned, seized one, mounted, and galloped on. There was a quick halt. A panting mob came surging back over the way they had just fled. A ford in front had been blocked, and in the scramble the cry was raised that Stuart's cavalry were on them and cutting every soul down in his tracks at the crossing.