They rode abreast beside the railroad through the narrow gap.  A long freight-train rumbled and rattled by, and a little later they passed a coal shaft, where a begrimed night shift loaded cars under flaring torches.

“Their message to Winkelried is still on this side of the Atlantic,” said Armitage; “but Winkelried is in a strong room by this time, if the existing powers at Vienna are what they ought to be.  I’ve done my best to get him there.  The message would only help the case against him if they sent it.”

Claiborne groaned mockingly.

“I suppose I’ll know what it’s all about when I read it in the morning papers.  I like the game well enough, but it might be more amusing to know what the devil I’m fighting for.”

“You enlisted without reading the articles of war, and you’ve got to take the consequences.  You’ve done what you set out to do—­you’ve found me; and you’re traveling with me over the Virginia mountains to report my capture to Baron von Marhof.  On the way you are going to assist in another affair that will be equally to your credit; and then if all goes well with us I’m going to give myself the pleasure of allowing Monsieur Chauvenet to tell you exactly who I am.  The incident appeals to my sense of humor—­I assure you I have one!  Of course, if I were not a person of very great distinction Chauvenet and his friend Durand would not have crossed the ocean and brought with them a professional assassin, skilled in the use of smothering and knifing, to do away with me.  You are in luck to be alive.  We are dangerously near the same size and build—­and in the dark—­on horseback—­”

“That was funny.  I knew that if I ran for it they’d plug me for sure, and that if I waited until they saw their mistake they would he afraid to kill me.  Ugh!  I still taste the red soil of the Old Dominion.”

“Come, Captain!  Let us give the horses a chance to prove their blood.  These roads will be paste in a few hours.”

The dawn was breaking sullenly, and out of a gray, low-hanging mist a light rain fell in the soft, monotonous fashion of mountain rain.  Much of the time it was necessary to maintain single file; and Armitage rode ahead.  The fog grew thicker as they advanced; but they did not lessen their pace, which had now dropped to a steady trot.

Suddenly, as they swept on beyond Lamar, they heard the beat of hoofs and halted.

“Bully for us!  We’ve cut in ahead of them.  Can you count them, Claiborne?”

“There are three horses all right enough, and they’re forcing the beasts.  What’s the word?”

“Drive them back!  Ready—­here we go!” roared Armitage in a voice intended to be heard.

They yelled at the top of their voices as they charged, plunging into the advancing trio after a forty-yard gallop.

“’Not later than Friday’—­back you go!” shouted Armitage, and laughed aloud at the enemy’s rout.  One of the horses—­it seemed from its rider’s yells to be Chauvenet’s—­turned and bolted, and the others followed back the way they had come.