“There's bound to be a wide road somewhere among these fields, the kind we call a county road.”
“It's over there beyond that rail fence,” said Dick. They urged their horses into a trot, and soon found that Dick was right. A road of red clay soft from the rains stretched before them.
“A man doesn't have to look twice here for a trail. See,” said the sergeant.
The road from side to side was plowed deep with the hoofs of horses, every footprint pointing northward.
“I take it that it can't be anything else. There is certainly in these parts no rebel force of cavalry large enough to make this trail.”
“How old would you say these tracks are?”
“Hard to tell, but they can't have been made many hours ago. We'll press forward, lieutenant, and we can save time going through the fields on the edge of the road.”
Although they had to take down fences they made good speed and just as the sun was rising they saw the light of a low campfire among some trees, lining either bank of a small creek. They approached warily, until they saw the faded blue uniforms. Then they galloped forward, shouting that they were friends, and in a few minutes were in the presence of Grierson himself.
He had been making a great raid, but he was eager now for the opportunity to strike at Forrest. He must give his horses a short rest, and then Dick and the sergeant should guide him at speed to the ford where the opposing forces stood.
“It's twenty-five miles, you tell me?” said Grierson to Dick.
“As nearly as I can calculate, sir. It's through swampy country, but I think we ought to be there in three or four hours.”
“Then lead the way,” said Grierson. “Like your colonel, I'll be glad to have a try at Forrest.”
Sergeant Whitley rode in advance. A lumberman first and then a soldier of the plains, he had noted even in the darkness every landmark and he could lead the way back infallibly. But he warned Grierson that such a man as Forrest would be likely to have out scouts, even if they had to swim the river. It was likely that they could not get nearer by three or four miles to Colonel Winchester without being seen.
“Then,” said Grierson, who had the spirit of a Stuart or a Forrest, “we'll ride straight on, brushing these watchers out of our way, and if by any chance their whole force should cross, we'll just meet and fight it.”