"And where does it lead to, may I ask?"

"That depends upon which way you are traveling--and which fork you
take."

"Possibly. But suppose you were riding north. Wouldn't the right fork
lead to Richmond--and the left swing around toward the river crossing?"

"As to that I must refer you to a more competent authority," she
answered with a hint of some disclosure in her tones.

"Who?"

"Mr. Jefferson Davis," she replied and almost laughed outright as he
turned away to hide his vexation. This was an easy game for her to
play--and every moment she gained added to Herbert's safety. But if only
she could hear those three shots from across the river.

"Well, Harris?" said Morrison as his Lieutenant strode up.

"I have to report, sir, that we've gotten what little hay and corn there
was in the stables and are waiting for your orders."

"Very well," and Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison's incisive words rang
mercilessly in the listening woman's ears. "Pick out the best shots you
have among your men and send them at the gallop down this road to the
river crossing. String them along the bank, dismount them and have them
watch as they've never watched before. You understand? Now _hurry_!"