“Not while Whitley, here, is with us,” replied Dick.  “He learned while out on the plains, not only to have eyes in the back of his head, but to have ’em in the sides of it as well.  In addition he can hear the fall of a leaf a mile away.”

The sergeant shook his head and uttered an emphatic no in protest, but in his heart he was pleased.  He was a sergeant who liked being a sergeant, and he was proud of all his wilderness and prairie lore.

Dick gave the word and the little troop galloped away to the right, zealous in its task and beating up every wood and thicket for the hidden riflemen who were so dangerous.  At intervals they saw the cavalry force riding steadily on, and again they were hidden from it by forest or bush.  More than an hour passed and they saw no foe.  Dick concluded that the sharpshooters had been scared off by the flanking force, and that they would have no further trouble with them.  His spirits rose accordingly and there was much otherwise to make them rise.

It was like Heaven to be on horseback in the pleasant country after being cramped up so much in narrow trenches, and there was the thrill of coming action.  They were going to join Sheridan and where he rode idle moments would be few.

“Ping!” a bullet whistled alarmingly near his head and then cut leaves from a sapling beyond him.  The young lieutenant halted the troop instantly, and Sergeant Whitley pointed to a house just visible among some trees.

“That’s where it came from, and, since it hasn’t been followed by a second, it’s likely that only one man is there, and he is lying low, waiting a chance for another bullet,” he said.

“Then we’ll rout him out,” said Dick.

He divided his little troop, in order that it could approach the house from all sides, and then he and the sergeant and six others advanced directly in front.  He knew that if the marksman were still hidden inside he would not fire now, but would seek rather to hide, since he could easily observe from a window that the building was surrounded.

It was a small house, but it was well built and evidently had been occupied by people of substance.  It was painted white, except the shutters which were green, and a brick walk led to a portico, with fine and lofty columns.  There was nobody outside, but as the shutters were open it was probable that someone was inside.

Dick disliked to force an entrance at such a place, but he had been sent out to protect the flank and he could not let a rifleman lie hidden there, merely to resume his deadly business as soon as they passed on.  They pushed the gate open and rode upon the lawn, an act of vandalism that he regretted, but could not help.  They reached the door without any apparent notice being taken of them, and as the detachments were approaching from the other sides, Dick dismounted and knocked loudly.  Receiving no answer, he bade all the others dismount.