Deck paid in gold for the provisions. The postmaster, who looked like a happy man since he saw the precious coin, wrapped the chickens in papers, putting a little package of salt with each; and the wanderers stuffed them into their capacious pockets, finding also space enough for the crackers.
"We are all right now," said Deck, as they left the shop, and hastened to the tree where they had left their horses.
"We sha'n't starve, nohow," replied Life.
When they came in sight of the horses, they discovered with surprise and chagrin four men, evidently deserters from the Confederate army, two of whom were untying the bridles of the animals. One of them had succeeded in doing so, and was about to mount the steed.
"What are you about thar?" demanded Life, as he stalked towards the man who had a foot in the stirrup.
The deserter stopped for an instant, and then leaped on the horse.
"I reckon we need those hosses more'n you uns do," replied the fellow coolly and impudently.
"I reckon you won't have 'em," replied Life. Reaching up his long right arm, and grasping the man by the throat, he dragged him from the animal in the twinkling of an eye, pitching him on the ground as though he had been a piece of carrion; and he lay there looking at the stalwart form of the Kentuckian, not much inclined to close with him.
The sergeant held the horse recaptured, which he had ridden so far, and Deck advanced upon the other. But the other two went to his aid, and planted themselves between Deck and his steed. They did not appear to be armed, having doubtless thrown away their heavy flint-lock muskets, though they might have pistols in their pockets.
"I reckon you uns can't have these hosses," said one of the men in front of the other two.