Somers rode off, but had gone only a short distance before his friend dashed up to his side, and pointed out to him a piece of woods on his route, where a squad of the enemy’s cavalry had been seen, and entreated him to be exceedingly cautious.
“I’m always cautious, major,” laughed Somers.
“I know you are, my boy; but you might not have known there was any danger in that quarter.”
“I will avoid the woods, if I can.”
“You can, by going over that low place at the right of the creek,” added De Banyan. “I have a message to deliver in that direction myself.”
They rode on, and parted a short distance from the creek. Somers proceeded to his destination, and having accomplished his mission, started on the return. When he reached the point nearest to the creek, his attention was attracted by a riderless horse, feeding on the shrubs that covered the ground. A nearer approach to the animal assured him it was De Banyan’s horse; and his blood froze with fear as he considered the meaning of this circumstance. His friend had evidently been shot, and had fallen from his horse; but perhaps he was not dead, and Somers proceeded to search for the major.
As he rode forward, almost overcome by the suddenness of the shock which had fallen upon him, the sharp crack of a rifle roused him from his meditation, and a bullet whistled uncomfortably near his head. He drew his revolver, and discovered half a dozen rebels in front of him. Wheeling his horse on the instant, he attempted to escape in the opposite direction. This act drew upon him the fire of the party, and though he was not hit, his horse dropped upon the ground, shot through the head. As the faithful animal fell, the leg of the rider became entangled under his body, and he was held fast.
“How are you, Blueback?” said one of the rebels, as they rushed forward and seized him, disarming him before they released him from his uncomfortable position.
“How are you, Grayback?” replied Somers, calling his philosophy to his aid in this trying moment.
“Is yer health good, Yank?”