"Goin' to Fulton, if the Yanks will let me," drawled Harry. "Whar be yo 'uns goin'?" "That 's nun yo' business. Air yo 'un Union or Confed?" "Which be yo'uns?" "Look heah, young feller, nun of yo' foolin'. I reckon yo' air a Yank in disguise. That 's a mighty fine hoss yo 'un air ridin'. 'Spose we 'uns trade." "'Spose we 'uns don't." During this conversation Harry's right hand was resting beneath his jacket, grasping the butt of his revolver. "I reckon we 'uns will," jeered the fellow, reaching for his pistol. Quick as a flash Harry had covered him with his revolver. Fortunately for him, the two men were close together. "Hands up," he ordered. "A move, a motion to draw a weapon, and one or both of you will die. It don't pay to fool with one of Porter's men." The hands of both went up, but one exclaimed, "One of Porter's men? Be yo' one of Porter's men? We 'uns are on our way to join him. We 'uns heard he was at Brown's Springs." "Yo 'uns will find him thar. I am taking a message from him to a friend in Fulton. Yo 'uns can lower your hands. I reckon we 'uns understand each other now." "We 'uns certainly do," said one of the men, as they dropped their hands, looking foolish. "Wall, good-bye; may see yo 'uns in Fulton tomorrow." And Harry rode off, leaving the men sitting on their horses watching him. "Ought to have shot both of them," muttered Harry, "but I cannot afford to take any risks just now." Harry had no further adventures in reaching Fulton, and at once reported to Captain Duffield, who was in command of the post. Captain Duffield listened to Harry's report with a troubled countenance. "A thousand of the devils, did you say?" he asked. "Yes, and more coming in every hour." "And I have only eighty men," replied Duffield, bitterly. "If they attack before I can get help, there is no hope for us." "Colonel Shaffer is a few miles to the west with about five hundred men," replied Harry. "If they do not attack tonight, as I do not reckon they will from what Porter said, he may be here in time to help. I have sent him word." "Sent him word? By whom?" asked Outfield, eagerly. "By my dog," and Harry explained. As Duffield listened, his countenance fell. "I see no hope from that," he said. "It is preposterous to think that a dog will carry a message for miles, and hunt up a man." "If you knew Bruno, you would think differently," replied Harry, smiling. "I can put no dependence on any such thing," said Duffield. "My only hope is getting word to Colonel Guitar, at Jefferson City. If I get any help, it must come from him. God grant that Porter may not attack tonight." "I think there is little danger tonight, but they may be down in the morning," said Harry. "Do you think Guitar can reinforce you by morning?" "He must; he must. I will send a message to him by courier mounted on one of my fleetest horses." "Bess is about as fast as they make them," replied Harry. "I know the country. I will go if you wish."