“They’ve gone straight into Washington,” he said.  “We ought to get an answer soon.”

“We’ll wait here for it,” said Dick.

The three messengers were now thoroughly warmed at the stove, they had eaten heartily of the best the village could furnish, and a great feeling of comfort pervaded them.  While they were waiting for the reply that they hoped would come from Washington, Dick Mason and Sergeant Whitley went outside.  No snow was falling in the valley, but off on the mountain crest they still saw the white veil, blown by the wind.

Red Blaze joined them and was everywhere their guide and herald.  He ascribed to them such deeds of skill and valor that they were compelled to call him the best romancer they had met in a long time.

“I suppose that if Mr. Warner were here,” said the sergeant, “he would reduce these statements to mathematics, ten per cent fact an’ ninety per cent fancy.”

“Just about that,” said Dick.

Red Blaze came to them presently, bristling with news.

“A farmer from a hollow further to the west,” he said, “has just come in, an’ he says that a band of guerillas is ridin’ through the hills.  ’Bout twenty of them, he said, led by a big dark fellow, his face covered with black beard.  They’ve been liftin’ hosses an’ takin’ other things, but they’re strangers in these parts.  Tom Sykes, who was held up by them an’ robbed of his hoss, says that the rest of ’em called their leader Skelly.  Tom seemed to think that mebbe they came from somewhere in the Kentucky mountains.  They called themselves a scoutin’ party of the Southern army.”

Dick started violently.

“Why, I know this man Skelly,” he said.  “He lives in the mountains to the eastward of my home in Kentucky.  He organized a band at the beginning of the war, but over there he said he was fightin’ for the North.”

“He’ll be fightin’ for his own hand,” said the sergeant sternly.  “But he can’t play double all the time.  That sort of thing will bring a man to the end of a rope, with clear air under his feet.”

“I’m glad you’ve told me this,” said Red Blaze.  “Skelly might have come ridin’ in here, claimin’ that he an’ his men was Northern troops, an’ then when we wasn’t suspectin’ might have held up the whole town.  I’ll warn ’em.  Thar ain’t a house here that hasn’t got two or three rifles an’ shotguns in it, an’ with the farmers from the valley joinin’ in Hubbard could wipe out the whole gang.”

“Tell them to be on guard all the time, Red Blaze,” said Whitley with strong emphasis.  “In war you’ve got to watch, watch, watch.  Always know what the other fellow is doin’, if you can.”

“Let’s go back to the station,” said Dick.  “Maybe we’ll have an answer soon.”

They found the young operator hanging over his instrument, his eyes still shining.  He had been in that position ever since they left him, and Dick knew that his eagerness to get an answer from Washington kept him there, mind and body waiting for the tick of the key.