“Why?” I stared at him, now thoroughly aroused to the thought that he had important news to communicate.
“Wal,” he explained slowly, “whin ye wint off, I sorter tuk a notion ter look 'bout a bit. Used ter be an ol' stompin' ground o' mine. So Dutchy an' me clumb thet big hill back o' whar we halted, an' by gum, down thar in ther gully on t' other side thar's a durned big camp o' fellers.”
I reined up short, and with uplifted hand signalled the men behind to halt.
“Why didn't you tell me this before?” I questioned sternly. “How many were there? and what did they look like?”
He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, and answered with careful deliberation. “Durn it, I didn't jine ye till after ye'd started, an' I reckon as how it took me all o' tew mile ter git this yere blame muel up ter whar I cud talk. Thar's quite a smart bunch, but they hed some pickets out, an' I cudn't git close 'nough ter tell zackly. Dutchy thought thar wus nigh onter two hunderd o' 'em, but I jist don't know. They wusn't dressed like sojers o' either army, an' I reckon they're out o' ther hills.”
I glanced at my little handful of men, scarcely knowing what decision it might be wise to make. Undoubtedly they would fight if occasion arose, but the odds were terribly heavy; besides, if Brennan came, and his party got away that same evening, as was planned for them to do, then it might not be necessary for us to strike a blow. I was certainly in no mood to expose my small command merely to save the empty house from destruction.
“Ebers,” I said, turning toward the Sergeant, who sat his horse with expressionless face, “you were with the guide when he discovered this camp. How many do you think it contained? and who were they?”
“Vel, dere vos more as two gompanies, Captain, und dere vos some horses, but dey vos dressed—vot you calls it?—all ober not der same.”
“Not in uniform?”
“Dot vos it.”