"Do you know that force, Win?" he asked as the guide rode up to him.
"I do. They wear the blue and the gray, and they are Tennessee cavalry," replied Milton. "Fronklyn was right."
Deck had a field-glass slung over his shoulder, and he directed it to a point beyond the enemy; for he wished to ascertain if Tom Belthorpe's platoon was in pursuit; but the road was too crooked to enable him to see any distance, for it was bordered in places by walnut forests.
"I don't quite understand this thing," said Deck, musing, as he strained his vision to discover another force at the north. "Captain Gordon was with the detachment that went to Breedings; and if he defeated the Confederates, as he must have done, I don't see how he happened to permit them to escape, for he had better horses than the men in front of us ride, and the captain and Lieutenant Belthorpe are wide-awake officers."
"But both of them are strangers in these counties, while the Tennesseeans are probably well acquainted with the country. Zollicoffer has to feed his army on the supplies gathered from the region around him, and his foragers have learned the geography of this part of the State. At any rate, his officers can obtain plenty of guides," replied Milton; "and this one had a better knowledge of the roads and the paths across the country."
Fearful that the Confederate commander would avail himself of his knowledge, and thus elude him, Deck sent Life with ten men into the field on the left, and Fronklyn with the same number into that on the right. The enemy did not seem to like this movement, though it weakened the force in front of him about one-half. The officer arranged his men so that they extended entirely across the road, and then in a voice that might have been heard half a mile, he ordered a charge.
The Confederate troopers set up a yell loud and fierce enough to intimidate all the old ladies in the State if they could have heard it; but the Riverlawn Cavalry had heard it before, and its effect was to kindle the wrath of the members of the platoon.
"Unsling your carbines, Life! Unsling your carbines, Fronklyn!" shouted Deck, as the flanking parties dashed into the two fields.
The men had fought hand to hand with the Texan Rangers; and they were roused to the highest pitch of enthusiasm when they found themselves again in front of a regular force of troopers, instead of Home Guards or guerillas. With their sabres in hand they rushed upon the foe with all the speed to which they could spur their horses. The men were fresh; for they had fought no engagement that day, and their work had been easier than the regular marching.