Driscoll seemed struck by the wisdom of that precaution. "Now I heard tell," he chimed in eagerly, "as how a mule is a right sure-footed critter for a river crossin'. An' a good ridin' mule could suit a man fine----" "A mule!" Boyd exploded, outraged. But Drew considered the suggestion calmly. "I'll keep a lookout in town. May be swappin' for that mule yet, Driscoll. You'll have to pick up my share of peaches if that's the way it's goin' to be." There were more plans laid for the taking of Calhoun as the hours passed and the harried company plodded or spurred--depending upon the nature of the countryside, the activity of Union garrisons, and their general state of energy at the time--southwest across the length of Kentucky. Days became not collections of hours they could remember one by one afterward, but a series of incidents embedded in a nightmare of hard riding, scanty fare, and constant movement. Not only horses were giving out now; they dropped men along the way. And some--like Cambridge and Hilders--vanished completely, either cut off when they went to "trade" mounts, or deserting the troop in favor of their own plans for survival. The remaining men burst into Calhoun as a cloud of locusts descending on a field of unprotected vegetation. Drew did not know how much Union sentiment might exist there, but he judged that their actions would not leave too many friends behind them. Jugs had appeared, to be passed eagerly from hand to hand, and the contents of store shelves were swept up and out before the outraged owners could protest. It had showered that morning, leaving puddles of mud and water in the unpaved streets. And at one place there was a mud fight in progress--laughing, staggering men plastering the stuff over the new clothes they had looted. Drew rode around such a party, the stud's prancing and snorting getting him wide room, to tie up at the hitching rail before the largest store. A man in his shirt sleeves stood a little to one side watching the excitement in the street. As Drew came up the man glanced at the scout, surveying his shabbiness, and his mouth took on the harsh line of a sneer. "Want a new suit, soldier?" he demanded. "Just help yourself! You're late in gettin' to it...."