"About that distance," agreed the other. "And as at this unearthly hour I certainly cannot see the colonel, and as your horse is evidently spent, why go the rest of the way at a gallop?"
"It was my idea," said McNeill, "to pass the river early. If I can gain the big woods before the day is old, so much the better. Dandy is tired, it is true, but he has a certain staying quality. However, we will go more slowly now."
They put themselves in motion. "Two men are behind us," remarked the man from Romney.
"Yes. There they come through the fields. Two troopers who are riding with me—Regulars. They'll accommodate their pace to ours."
"Very good," said the other with serenity, and the two rode on, Marchmont's men a little way behind. By now the stars had faded, the moon looked wan, there was a faint rose in the east. Far in a vale to the left a cock crew, and was answered from across a stream. To the south, visible between and above the fringing trees, a ribbon of mist proclaimed the river. The two men rode, not in silence, but still not with yesterday's freedom of speech. There was, however, no quietude that the chill ebb of the hour and the weariness of overwork might not account for. They spoke of this and that briefly, but amicably. "Will you report at headquarters?" asked Marchmont, "before attempting the Virginia shore?"
"I do not yet know. There is no occasion, as I have all instructions from General Banks. I wish to make no unnecessary delay."
"Have you the countersign?"
"Yes."
"Will you cross by the ferry?"
"I hardly think so. Ashby may be watching that and the ford below. There is a place farther up the river that I may try."