"That someone is lurking around in the dark to pick us off when we least expect it."
"Wade, ye don't know these fellers yet, long's ye've been here. Somebody's lyin' out yonder dead, as shore as you live. Tom, git the lantern an' come on; let's take a look."
Followed by Tom and Wade, Peter went out the gate toward the spot where the enemy were located while the fighting was going on. Old Peter, that old time scout of the mountains, stopped and stood in a listening attitude. Now he heard the faint groan from someone to the left of them; his trained ear carried him to the fallen man.
"Hi, thar, friend!" he called out; "whar air ye?"
"I'm dyin'," came back the groaning reply, "I'm dyin', shore; this time."
Peter went on and bent over the fallen form. Throwing the glare of his lantern in the face of the man, he gasped, "My God! it's Al Thompson."
"Yes, it's Al, old man; ye got me this time." Thompson was speaking laboriously, while Wade and those near listened breathlessly. Thompson was dying sure enough. His last words were a curse against those who had been his enemies. "Ye got me now, damn ye!" he said, "but I'll git ye when ye come down ter t'other world, ye——"
Thompson could say no more.
Peter looked into the pale face. "He's dead, shore, boys; he's a goner now, an' won't give us any more trouble."
Just at this juncture there could be heard the sound of the heavy beat of horses coming over the mountain.