“What is it?” exclaimed Warner, who had not yet seen anything.

“Slade and his men are in the bush on the other side of the river.  The warning was real and I’ve no doubt Harry sent it.  They’ve seen Frank come down the tree!  Drop flat for your lives!”

Again his tone was so compelling that the other two threw themselves flat instantly, and Dick went down with them.  They were barely in time.  A dozen rifles flashed from the thickets beyond the stream, but all the bullets passed over their heads.

“Now we run for it!” exclaimed Dick, once more in that tone of compelling command.  All three rose instantly, though not forgetting their fish and their fishing rods, and ran at their utmost speed for fifty or sixty yards, when at Dick’s order they threw themselves flat again.  Three or four more shots were fired from the thickets, but they did not come near their targets.

“Thank God for that little river in between us!” said Pennington, piously and sincerely.  “Rivers certainly have their uses!”

Then they heard a sharp, shrill note blown upon a whistle.

“That’s Slade recalling his men,” said Dick.  “I heard him use the same whistle in Mississippi and I know it.  His wicked little scheme to slaughter us has failed and knowing it he prudently withdraws.”

“For which, perhaps, we have a chip to thank,” said Warner.  “Shall we rise and run again?”

“Yes,” said Dick.  “I think they’ve gone, but fifty yards farther and nobody in those thickets can reach us.”

They stooped as they ran, and they ran fast, but, when they dropped down again, it was behind a little hill, and they knew that all danger had passed.  The thumping of their hearts ceased, and they looked thankfully at one another.

“Our lives were in danger,” said Warner proudly, “but I didn’t forget my fish.  See, the silver beauties!”

“And here are mine too!” said Pennington, holding up his string.

“And mine also!” said Dick.

“I don’t like the way we had to run,” said Warner.  “We were practically within our own lines and we were compelled to be undignified.  I’ve been insulted by that flap-brimmed scoundrel, Slade, and I shall not forget it.  If he hangs upon our flank in this campaign I shall make a point of it, if I am able, to present him with a bullet.”

The sound of thudding hoofs came, and Colonel Winchester and a troop galloped up.

“We heard shots!” he exclaimed.  “What was it?”

Dick held up his fish.

“We’ve been fishing, sir,” he replied, “and as you can see, we’ve had success, but we were interrupted by the guerrilla Slade, whom I met in Mississippi, and his men.  We got off, though, unhurt, and brought our fish with us.”

Colonel Winchester’s troop numbered more than a hundred men, and crossing the river they beat up the country thoroughly, but they saw no Confederate sign.  When he came back Dick told him all the details of the episode, and Colonel Winchester agreed with him that Harry had sent the warning.