"Uncle Billy's got duplicates of all your bridges fast as ye blow 'em up."
"All right, we're goin' ter blow up the tunnels through the mountains——"
"That's nothin'—we got duplicates to all the tunnels, too!"
John Vaughan began to creep toward the Federal lines and muskets blazed from both sides. He dropped flat on the ground and it took two hours to crawl to a place of safety.
He felt these lines next morning where they were wider apart and found them too dangerous to attempt. The pickets, at the point he approached, were in an ugly mood and a desultory fire was kept up all day. The men had bunched up two together and entrenched themselves, keeping a deadly watch for the men in blue. He stood for half an hour close enough to see every movement of two young pickets who evidently had some score to pay and were hunting for their foe with quiet, deadly purpose.
"There's a Yank behind that clump," said one.
"Na—nothin' but a huckleberry bush," the other replied.
"Yes there is, too. We'll decoy and pot him. I'll get ready now and you raise your cap on a ramrod above the hole. He'll lift his head to fire and I'll get him."
The speaker cautiously slipped his musket in place and drew a bead on the spot. His partner placed his hat on his ramrod and slowly lifted it a foot above their hiding place.
The hat had scarcely cleared the pile of dirt before the musket flashed.