In a minute more, the major and the captain were crawling over the rocks and through the brush, directly for the place whence the signal-light had appeared. No answering signal had been discovered, and Deck concluded that the second signal station was out of the range of the valley bottom.
The distance from the trail to the spot from which the light had flashed was calculated by Life Knox to be not over five hundred yards, that is, about a quarter of a mile, and the tall Kentuckian was not the man to make a mistake in calculating such a distance. But the way was rugged, and often a gully or a wall of rock brought the pair to a halt. Yet the gullies were not so wide but that each could be covered by a stiff jump, and they helped one another up the steep places. The Kentuckian advanced with hardly any noise, and Deck followed his example, although not so familiar with woodcraft.
Three-quarters of the distance to the top of the rocky hill had been covered when each clutched the other by the arm. Both had made a discovery, whether of importance or not, they could not just then tell. They had found three horses, tethered in a spot through which ran a trail running east and west, diagonally to the course they were pursuing.
"Hist, somebody is coming," whispered Deck, as Life started to speak; and both shrunk back in the shadow of a clump of bushes.
They could hear the low murmur of three voices, and presently they distinguished three Confederates, attired in the uniform of the signal corps. Each man carried a pair of field-glasses and some sort of an apparatus strapped to his back.
"They are the fellows we are after, sure enough," whispered Life. "Three to two. What shall we do?"
"Wait; and see to your pistol," answered the major, in an equally low voice.
"Captain, what did you make that last signal out to mean?" asked one of the Confederates.
"It meant that the Yankees have crossed Sand Mountain and are assembling along Lookout."
"But what of the cavalry?"