There was a murmur of acquiescence, a few questions, and then the silence
of approval. It was evident these minute men were under small discipline,
and their officers led only by force of character. Without orders the
horses were led away, tied securely in the black depths of the woods, and
the men came straggling back, rifles in hand, grouping themselves along
the edge of the stream. There was no attempt at military formation, but
Duval straightened them out so as to count the number present.

"Sixty-nine, all told," he announced briefly. "All right, boys, come on,
and keep your powder out of the water."

It was firm bottom, but the water rose above the waist, with sufficient
current so we had to brace against it in mid-stream. We trailed dripping
up the eastern bank, coming out upon a well-travelled road. A hundred
feet beyond was the cleft through the clay, and there Farrell halted us,
dividing the men into two parties. Under his orders they disappeared like
magic, the silent night engulfing them completely. The three of us,
Duval, Farrell, and myself, alone remained in the deserted road.

"Duval," said the blacksmith quietly, "you an' the Major feel your way
along to the top, an' discover what is happening. I'll stay here, an'
take care of the boys."

The road was a gradual rise, the clay packed hard under foot, but from
the summit we could look away for some distance over a level country,
dimly revealed under the new moon. There was nothing in sight, and no
sound disturbed the solitude. We sat down on a bunch of turf, rifles in
hand, to wait patiently, our eyes scanning the distance.

"Who are those fellows back there?" I questioned at last, made nervous by