Part 45 (1/2)

But if he wanted extra proof that it was really Ceph he was gazing upon, the n.o.ble steed furnished it himself. At the sound of Deck's voice he p.r.i.c.ked up his ears and raised his head. Then he left the bunch of horses and rushed straight for the young major and rubbed his soft nose affectionately upon Deck's neck.

”Good, faithful old Ceph!” Deck could not help saying. ”Where in the world have you been? Oh, how I have missed you! They shan't take you again, not if I can help it!” And he leaped into the saddle.

”Wha--what do dis mean, ma.s.sa?” stammered the negro. ”What right hab you-un to dat hoss?”

”Every right in the world, Sambo,” answered Deck. ”The horse belongs to me, don't you, Ceph?”

For answer Ceph gave a low snort of satisfaction.

”Belong to yo'? I fink dat's a mistake, ma.s.sa. Dat am Captain Loring's hoss, fo' suah,” and the colored man shook his head decidedly. Then as he came close enough to note what uniform Deck was wearing, he gave a gasp of horror. ”Fo' pity sake, ma.s.sa, is you-un a--a Yankee?”

”Yes, I am, Sambo, and I want you to keep your mouth shut about this,”

replied Deck, sternly. ”The horse is mine and always was mine, and I am going to ride off on him. If you make any outcry I will shoot you.”

”Don't go fo' to do dat, ma.s.sa orsifer!” came with a s.h.i.+ver. ”I won't say a single word, 'deed I won't. But--but who's to take the 'sponsibility when Captain Loring find dat hoss ain't heah no mo'?”

”You'll be telling the truth when you say he got away from you, Sambo,--for he did get away just now. Is this the way to Hall's Ford?”

”No, ma.s.sa; dat's de way to Lee and Gordon's Mill.”

”I don't know whether to believe you or not,” said Deck, simply in order to get the negro ”mixed.” ”I guess I'll find Breckinridge's camp somewhere around here. Now I'm off. If you give the alarm, remember, I'll come back and put half a dozen bullets through your body.”

”Won't say a word, ma.s.sa orsifer,” returned the negro in a more shaky voice than ever.

”Very well, you'll be safe then--but not otherwise,” concluded Deck, and continued on his way down the brook.

He pa.s.sed along as rapidly as Ceph could travel over the rocks and dirt, keeping to the brook just so long as the negro remained in sight. As soon as the colored man was lost to view, he turned at right angles to the direction he had been travelling, to throw any possible pursuer off the trail.

Having left the brook which had been his guide, the major found it no easy matter to set himself right again concerning the direction of Chickamauga Creek. The way was dark and uncertain, and it was not until eleven o'clock that he came out at a point where a ledge of rock several yards in height overlooked the stream that divided the armies of the North and the South.

All was quiet; so quiet that one would imagine the neighborhood deserted. But Major Lyon was not to be taken unawares, and leading Ceph back into the brush, he made a survey of the situation on foot.

Presently he found a safe path into the stream, with no picket guards within a hundred feet on either side. This just suited him, and in a few minutes more, horse and rider were braving the current of the rolling Chickamauga.

”Ceph could swim well, but not noiselessly, and they had not advanced over fifty feet before a command came out of the darkness from down the creek.

”Who is that out there? Speak, or I will fire!”

”What's that?” called back the major, at the same time urging Ceph forward, and up the stream.

”Who are you?”

”A friend.”

”Come back here then and give the countersign.”

”I can give you that without coming back,” went on Deck, and did so, speaking just loud enough for his questioner to hear him.

”What are you doing out there?” went on the picket, only half satisfied.