Lucius made off as he had been told to do, for after what he had seen, his faith in Ephraim’s strategic powers was absolutely unbounded, and as soon as he was clear of the ditch, the Grizzly, with much rustling of his feet and a great outward show of confidence, advanced towards the outlet of the ditch.
From his superior height upon the slight embankment Sergeant Mason looked down and smiled grimly. He never suspected the presence of Lucius, wriggling along to attain a point behind him. His whole mind was intent on the solitary figure, advancing towards him.
‘Halt! Who comes there?’ he challenged, and Ephraim brought up standing, halted within six paces of the bayonet’s point.
‘Friend!’ he answered laconically.
‘What’s your business?’ demanded Mason, wishful to make sure of his ground and his man.
‘Speshul,’ returned Ephraim, also feeling his way.
‘That so? What mought be the natur of it? I’m hyar tew find out, yew know.’
‘Out after a man wearin’ a Federal uniform, and supposed ter be a rebel spy. Kin I pass?’
‘I guess so. If yew have the countersign.’
Alas, poor Grizzly, the fighter of redskins is going to be too much for you! Ephraim advanced a pace or two.