Tim studied Red’s face, thin and sunken under his bristling beard. Red stirred in his sleep and moaned and settled down again. Tim bent his knees and sat up, stretched, and crawled to the mouth of the cave. The ground outside was in the grip of a heavy frost.
Tim faced a long, steep hill dotted with poplar and spruce. At the bottom of the hill, in a winding valley, a river glistened in the afternoon sun and the sound of running water came to his ears. Beyond the valley, above the delicate fringes of purple and gold, a mighty ridge stood proud against the sky.
Last night and in the early hours of this morning they had traveled fifteen miles or so without a halt, pushing onward to forget their hunger and bring themselves nearer to people who might help. Behind them was their first high ridge. They had crossed it in the blackness of a cloudy night, hardly aware of the dizzying heights until they reached the top. Then, looking back, they saw the shapes of the cliffs and rocks tumbling downward into the darkness, giving them sudden vertigo.
The country ahead was wild and rugged. If they had a rifle they could live on game, but as it was they could only hope for a chance to beg.
As Tim idly studied the valley below he thought he heard a voice. He listened closely. It must be his imagination. There was nothing now but the sound of water, the squawk of a crow on the wing. It came again, louder at first, then carried away on the wind.
In a minute or two Tim heard horses breaking the underbrush across the river. Through the trees he could see a column of cavalry wading in, pausing in the middle to water their horses.
With the sun in his eyes and from this distance it was hard to see their uniforms, but they were gray, not blue, that much was certain.
Tim slipped back into the cave and shook Red’s arm. Red pulled back and turned away. Tim shook his shoulder and Red sat up suddenly, wild-eyed, as if he’d been having a nightmarish dream.
Tim pressed his hand to his lips and motioned to Red to come with him to the mouth of the cave. Red shook his head and blinked, then crawled up and perched beside Tim. The cavalrymen had begun to ride up the hill, moving now at a pretty good clip, away from the cave. Red squinted dazedly into the sun. “Those are Federal uniforms!”
There was something wild in his voice. He gave a shout and jostled Tim as he burst free of the cleft in the rock and stood in full view. He was raising his hands to his mouth, to shout again, when Tim gave him a shove and knocked him to the ground. As Red rolled over, angry and surprised, Tim pinned him to the ground. “Those riders are Rebs.”