“You were after aid?”
“I was striving to reach our advance pickets at McMillan. It seemed the only possible chance, and none of the men would volunteer to make the ride. One was killed trying it before I started. God knows how I hated to leave them, but it had to be done. How many have you?”
“Only twenty; but if we could once get inside along with your fellows, we might hold the house until reinforcements came.”
“Thank God! I knew you would!” he cried joyfully, grasping me again fervently by the hand. “You are not one to hesitate over the color of a uniform at such a time as this. I have been proud all through this war to feel that we on both sides were of the same blood, and have felt like cheering your gray lines more than once. Only, Wayne,” and he hesitated an instant, “it is right I should tell you that Brennan is there, and in command.”
“I know it, but those women must be saved nevertheless,” I answered firmly, my mind settled. “This is no time for personal quarrelling, and whatever color of cloth we wear those outlaws are our common enemies, to be hunted down like wild beasts. I have seen specimens of their fiendish cruelty that make my blood run cold to remember. The very thought of those who are now exposed falling into such hands is enough to craze one; death would be preferable a thousand times. How many fighting men have you?”
“Seven fit for duty.”
“Will you ride forward, or go back with us?”
“We must send word,”—and the gallant fellow's voice shook,—“but God knows, Wayne, I want to go back. If we both live I am to marry Celia Minor.”
“I understand,” I said gravely. “Ebers, who is your best rider?”
“It vos dot funny leetle vellow Glen, Captain.”