I fancy that if we
can get off with a part of our men we'll be doing well."
Pennington's horse, shot through the head, dropped like a stone to the
ground, but the deft youth, used to riding the wild mustangs of the
prairie, leaped clear, seized another which was galloping about
riderless, and at one bound sprang into the saddle.
"Good boy!" shouted Dick with admiration, but the next moment the
horsemen of Forrest were rushing upon them anew. More men were killed,
many were taken, and Colonel Winchester, seeing the futility of further
resistance, gathered together those who were left and took flight
through the forest.
Tears of mortification came to Dick's eyes, but Sergeant Whitley,
who rode on his right hand, said:
"It's the only thing to do. Remember that however bad your position may
be it can always be worse. It's better for some of us to escape than
for all of us to be down or be taken."
Dick knew that his logic was good, but the mortification nevertheless
remained a long time. There was some consolation, however, in the fact
that his own particular friends had neither fallen nor been taken.
They still heard the shouts of pursuing horsemen, and shots rattled
about them, but now the covering darkness was their friend. They drew
slowly away from all pursuit. The shouts and the sounds of trampling
hoofs died behind them, and after two hours of hard riding Colonel
Winchester drew rein and ordered a halt.
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