When they reached a lower level, where the snow was far less dense, they stopped and listened.  The sergeant’s ears had been trained to uncommon keenness by his life on the plains, and he could hear nothing but the sigh of the falling snow.  Nor could Petty, who had fine ears himself.

They descended still further, and made another stop.  It was snowing here also, but it was merely an ordinary fall, and they could get a long view back up the pass.  They saw nothing there but earth and trees covered with snow.  Looking in the other direction they saw the sunshine gleaming for a moment on a roof in Townsville.

“We’re all safe now,” said Red Blaze, “an’ we’ll be with the soldiers in another half hour.  But just you two remember that mebbe the next time I couldn’t call up a snowstorm to cover us an’ save our lives.”

“Once is enough,” said Dick, “and, Mr. Petty, Sergeant Whitley and I want to thank you.”

Mittened hands met buckskinned ones in the strong grasp of friendship, and now, as they rode on, the whole village emerged into sight.  There was the long train standing on the track, the smoke rising in spires from the neat houses, and then the figures of human beings.

The fall of snow was light in the valley and as soon as they reached the levels the three proceeded at a gallop.  Dick saw Colonel Newcomb standing by the train, and springing from his horse he handed him the dispatch.  The colonel opened it, and as he read Dick saw the glow appear upon his face.

“Fire up!” he said to Canby, the engineer, who stood near.  “We start at once!”

The troops who were ready and waiting were hurried into the coaches, and the engine whistled for departure.

CHAPTER V

THE SINGER OF THE HILLS

As the engine whistled for the last time Dick sprang upon a car-step, one hand holding to the rail while with the other he returned the powerful grip of Red Blaze, who with his own unconfined hand grasped the bridles of the three horses, which had served them so well.  Petty had received a reward thrust upon him by Colonel Newcomb, but Dick knew that the mountaineer’s chief recompense was the success achieved in the perilous task chosen for him.

“Good-bye, Mr. Mason,” said Red Blaze, “I’m proud to have knowed you an’ the sergeant, an’ to have been your comrade in a work for the Union.”

“Without you we should have failed.”

“It jest happened that I knowed the way.  It seems to me that there’s a heap, a tremenjeous heap, in knowin’ the way.  It gives you an awful advantage.  Now you an’ your regiment are goin’ down thar in them Kentucky mountains.  They’re mighty wild, winter’s here an’ the marchin’ will be about as bad as it could be.  Them’s mostly Pennsylvania men with you, an’ they don’t know a thing ’bout that thar region.  Like as not you’ll be walkin’ right straight into an ambush, an’ that’ll be the end of you an’ them Pennsylvanians.”