Part 44 (1/2)

”But I must be knocked out, or my record won't bear investigation, Major Lyon. Are you ready to gallop away on this horse?”

”Yes,” answered Deck, promptly.

”All right, and don't forget to take those animals with you--at least for a ways.” The Confederate hesitated. ”If I give you the pa.s.sword, will you promise to use it only to get away on?”

”I will, and do.”

The countersign was then given, and Derwiddie looked again toward the house. Not a soul was in sight.

”Give me a small crack on the forehead with that pistol!” he cried.

”Right there!” and he indicated the spot over his left eye, at the same time scratching it sufficiently hard to draw blood. ”Now, strike--and good luck go with you!”

Deck understood, and with his heart in his throat, struck out lightly.

As the pistol landed on Derwiddie's forehead, he threw up his arms and reeled from the saddle. Pretending to stagger for a moment, he finally pitched headlong on the rocks. He was far from overcome, but he lay like a log where he had fallen.

The drama was on and the major did not waste an instant in making the scene move along. Urging the horse to where the other animals were standing, he gathered up the reins and placed one beast on either side of him. Then, with his pistol ready for use, he started on a wild ride down the trail leading past the corn-crib. He had covered less than a hundred and fifty yards when a cry from the house told him that his flight was discovered.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

THROUGH THE ENEMY'S LINES

The turn of affairs had been so sudden that Major Deck Lyon had had hardly time enough to arrange any plan for escaping, now the chance to get away was presented. Up to the time Tom Derwiddie had spoken to him so confidentially he had not dreamed that he had a friend so close at hand and one who was willing to do so much for him. Saving the Confederate's life at the burning cotton mill had been a generous action that was bearing splendid fruit, of which the major was destined to reap the full benefit.

Deck had no idea where the road he was taking led to, but he imagined that it would take him into the forest some distance beyond, and the shelter of this heavy growth of timber would be far more acceptable than would be a pursuit in the open.

Fortunately, the three horses were used to travelling together, so there was no hitch here, and the speed made by all three was very good. When the corn-crib was pa.s.sed, Deck found himself pa.s.sing through a stubble field, but this was less than two hundred yards in length.

But, short as was the distance, it was not yet fully covered, when Messinger appeared at the doorway of the farmhouse and gave the alarm.

He could not see Derwiddie lying on the ground, but he could see Deck, and without pausing to think twice, he raised his pistol and fired several shots in rapid succession.

Had the distance been less, or had Deck been standing still, he might have been seriously wounded, for the second shot glanced along his thigh and struck the horse he was riding in the fore-quarter. The horse staggered and fell, and it was only by a quick leap that the young Union officer saved himself from being trampled under the beast's hoofs.

Alarmed by the injury to their mate, the remaining horses gave a snort and a bound and started to run. Deck tried to hold them, but was taken off his feet. Rather than be dragged along the ground, he released the reins, and like a flash the two animals left him to his fate.

All this had taken less time than it takes to relate it. Seeing the effect of his shot, Messinger yelled to Chador, and both ran forth from the house on a dead run, straight for where Deck lay.

As the major sprang up, bruised and covered with dust, he realized that a crisis was at hand and that he must do something or stand the chance of recapture. Luckily he had retained hold of the pistol Derwiddie had given him, and raising this he fired on Messinger, who was several yards in advance of his companion.

As we know, Deck had practised a good deal with a pistol, and although the present weapon was not of the latest pattern, it could shoot straight, and Deck's aim was as correct as the shooting qualities of the firearm. The crack of the pistol had hardly died away than Messinger gave a yell and began to dance around in awful anguish, the bullet having taken off the thumb and first finger of his left hand and cut a path over two of his ribs.

Seeing his companion struck, Chador came to a sudden halt; and when Deck prepared to fire again, the cavalryman lost no time in seeking the shelter of a slight rise of ground in the centre of the stubble field.

He threw himself flat, and then Messinger did the same.

”I wonder where Tom is?” asked Chador, as he looked ahead, to see that Deck had turned once more and was speeding toward the woods.

”I don't know,” groaned the leader of the Confederates. ”Oh, my hand! I must go back to the house and have it attended to.” And he started back, having, for the time being, lost all interest in going after the escaping prisoner.

Unwilling to make the pursuit alone, especially in the face of what had occurred, Chador concluded to fill in his time hunting up Derwiddie. At the fork in the road he found the man lying where he had fallen, the blood covering his forehead and one cheek.