“I’ve no objection, sergeant.  Such a man as Slade cumbers the earth.  Besides, he’ll do everything he can now to kill us.”

The sergeant knelt, carbine raised, and waited for the ray of moonlight.  He was a dead shot, and he believed that he would not miss, but when the ray came at last Slade was not there.  Whitley uttered a low exclamation of disgust.

“A good chance gone,” he said, “and it may never come again.  I’d have saved the lives of a lot of good men.”

But a flash came from the thicket, and the sergeant from the grass replied.  A cry followed his shot, showing that some one had received his bullet, but Dick knew instinctively that it was not Slade, the crafty leader he was sure now being safe behind the trunk of a tree.

Presently the sergeant fired from another point, and then crept hastily away lest the flash of his rifle betray him.  A dozen shots were fired by Slade’s band, but no harm was done, and then, the sergeant coming back, Dick held a consultation with his two lieutenants and advisers.

“Perhaps we may flank them,” he said.  “We can divide our force, and taking them by surprise drive them out of the wood.”

But Sergeant Whitley, wary and weatherwise, was against it.

“The risk would be too great, sir,” he said.  “We can afford to wait while they can’t.  Our whole column will be up in time, while it’s not likely that anybody can come to help Slade.  It’s true too, sir, that this rain is going to stop.  The clouds are beginning to clear away, and when there’s light we’ll have a fair chance at ’em.”

“I think,” said Dick, “that it will be best for Mr. Shepard to return and hurry up a relieving column.  What do you say?”

“I think so too, sir,” said Shepard.  “I can lead my horse back some distance through the forest, then mount and gallop up the road.  They may be gone before I come again, but if they are not we can soon drive them away.”

“We’ll cover you with our rifles against any rush made by Slade’s men,” said Dick.

But it did not become necessary to fire.  Shepard was able to lead his horse through the woods without noise, until he was at least three hundred yards on the return journey.  Then he mounted and galloped at great speed up the pass.  Dick heard the distant thud of hoofs growing fainter and fainter until they died away altogether, and he knew that Slade must have heard them too.  And a man as acute and experienced as the guerrilla chief would easily divine their meaning.

The rain ceased, and the moaning and whistling of the wind in the pass became a murmur.  The clouds parted and sank away toward every horizon, leaving the full dome of the sky, shot with a bright moon and millions of dancing stars.  A silvery light over the woods and thickets drove away the deep darkness, and when Sergeant Whitley crept forward again to spy out the enemy he found that they were gone.  He trailed them up the lofty slope and discovered, as he had surmised, that they had left their horses there while they attempted the ambush.  He was sure now that they were far away, and he returned with his story, just as Shepard arrived with the vanguard of the column, led by Colonel Winchester.