The path admitted of only two abreast, and the forest was so heavy that it shut out most of the moonlight. But they rode on confidently, Dick and the sergeant leading. If it had not been for the size of the trees, Dick would have thought that he was back in the Wilderness. They heard now and then the wings of night birds among the leaves, and occasionally some small animal would scuttle across the path. They forded a narrow but deep stream, its waters black from decayed vegetation, and continued to push on briskly through the unbroken forest, until the sergeant said in a low voice to Dick: "I think I hear something ahead of us." They pulled back on the reins so suddenly that those behind almost rode into them. Then they sat there, a solid, compact little group, while Dick and the sergeant listened intently. "It's hoofbeats," said Dick, "very faint, because they are far away." "I think you are right, sir," said the sergeant. "But they're coming this way." "Yes, and at a steady pace. No stops and no hesitation." "Which shows that it's somebody who doesn't fear any harm." "The beats are pretty solid. A heavy man on a heavy horse." "About three hundred yards away, don't you think?" "About that, sir." "Maybe a farmer going home?" "Maybe, but I don't think so, sir." "At any rate, we'll soon see, because our unknown comes on without a break. There he is now!" They had a comparatively clear view straight ahead, and the figure of a man and a horse emerged from the shadows. The sergeant raised his rifle, but, as the man came on without fear, he dropped it again. Some strange effect of the moonlight exaggerated the rider and his horse, making both look gigantic, blending them together in such manner that a tremendous centaur seemed to be riding them down. In an instant or two the general effect vanished and as a clear beam fell upon the man's face Dick uttered an exclamation of relief. "Shepard!" he said, and he felt then that he should have known before that it was Shepard who was coming. He, alone of all men, seemed to have the gift of omniscience and omnipresence. The spy drew his horse to a halt directly in front of him and saluted: "Lieutenant Mason, sir?" he said. "I'm glad it's you, Mr. Shepard," said Dick. "I think that in this wood we'll need the hundred eyes that once belonged to Argus, but which he has passed on to you." "Thank you, sir," said Shepard. But the man at whom he looked most was the sergeant, and the sergeant looked most at him. One was a sergeant and the other was a spy, but each recognized in the other a king among men. Eyes swept over powerful chests and shoulders and open, bold countenances, and signified approval. They had met before, but they were more than well met here in the loneliness and the dark, amid dangers, where skill and courage, and not rank, counted. Then they nodded without speaking, as an Indian chief would to an Indian chief, his equal.