“We must get outen heah, an' thet quick,” said Fortner decisively. He caught one of the horses and shortened a stirrup to make the sadle answer for a side-saddle. “Heah, Aunt Debby, let me help ye up, honey. Now Bolton and Edwards, I'll help ye on these ere other critters. Now skeet out ez fast ez the hosse's legs will tote ye. Don't spar 'em a mite. Them fellers'll gin ye to the devil's own chase ez soon ez they get heah, an' see what's bin done. Glen and me'll go acrost the mounting, an' head 'em off on t'other side. Don't come back ef ye heah shootin', but keep straight on, fur we kin take keer o' this crowd without enny help. glen, you sasshay up the mounting thar ez fast ez the Lord'll let ye. I'll be arter ye right spry.” All sped away as directed. Fortner had been loading his gun while speaking. He now rammed the bullet home, and withdrawing his rammer walked over to the cliff beside which the teamster was cowering. “O, Mister Fortner, don't kill me--please don't!” whined the luckless man, getting awkwardly upon his knees and raising his hands imploringly. “I swar ter God I'll never raise a hand agin a Union man agin ef ye'll only spar my life.” “Kill ye, Pete Hoskins!” said Fortner with unfathomable contempt. “What consete ye hev ter think yer wuth the powder an' lead. I hain't no bullets ter waste on carr'on.” He struck the abject fellow a couple of stinging blows on the face with the ramrod, replaced it in the thimbles, and sprang up the rocks just as the head of the cavalry appeared around the bend of the road a few rods away. Overtaking Harry shortly, he heard about the same time the Rebels on the road below strike into a trot. “They know hit all now,” he said, “an' hev started in chase. Let's jog on lively, an' get ter whar we kin head 'em off.” Night had fallen in the meantime, but the full moon had risen immediately, making it almost as light as day. After half an hour's fast walking, the two Unionists had cut across the long horseshoe around which the Rebels were traveling, and had come down much ahead of them on the other side of the mountain, and just where the road led up the steep ascent of another mountain. There was a loneliness about the spot that was terrible. Over it hung the “thought and deadly feel of solitude.” The only break for miles in the primeval forest was that made for the narrow road. House or cabin there was none in all the gloomy reaches of rocks and gnarled trees. It was too inhospitable a region to tempt even the wildest squatter. The flood of moonlight made the desolation more oppresive than ever, by making palpable and suggestive the inky abysses under the trees and in the thickets. Fortner looked up the road to his right and listened intently.