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Read Ebook: Cavalry Curt; Or The Wizard Scout of the Army by Browne George Waldo
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Ebook has 1229 lines and 24554 words, and 25 pages
Three of the sentinels were clinging to its bridle and the plunging steed was stopped.
Others of the assailants were trying to pull the rider from his seat.
A few shots were fired, but the fight had come to such close quarters that firearms were of little use.
The stranger's rifle had been hurled from his grasp.
He felt himself borne down, and for a moment his struggles ceased.
"Will you surrender?" gritted the leader.
"Never!"
"On, Wildbird, on!"
Suddenly, with a herculean effort, the horseman freed his right arm.
An instant later a knife flashed in his hand.
Descrying a circle in the air it descended with lightning-like rapidity, severing at a single stroke the horse's bridle.
At the same time the assailants staggered back, leaving the wounded and maddened steed free.
With a snort of defiance it bounded forward sending the baffled men right and left.
Before they could rally, the dashing scout had cleared them.
A few shots were fired, but none seemed to take effect.
As their yells of rage rang on the air, the fugitive disappeared down the valley.
"That's a pretty go!" muttered the leader of the discomfited gang. "I should rather have lost my right arm than that he should have escaped."
"Did you recognize him, captain?" asked a tall, flaxened-hair soldier.
"He is Cavalry Curt."
"Not Phil Kearney's scout?"
"The same. I heard at headquarters yesterday that he was in these regions. His presence means us mischief."
"And his escape something worse."
"But he must not escape."
"Quick, into the saddle. We must follow him."
Three of the party were injured so that they could not join in the pursuit, and were forced to remain behind.
The others vaulted into the saddle and a few minutes later were following as rapidly as the country would permit on the trail of the fugitive.
He had only a slight start of them and they felt confident of quickly overtaking and capturing him.
In the very heart of the enemy's country his escape indeed seemed impossible.
"Look, Mara! Do my old eyes deceive me, or is that a horseman?"
"Where, grandpa?"
"Crossing the ridge yonder."
They presented a striking picture--one bowed beneath the weight of four-score years, his countenance shrunken and wrinkled, his long, thin lock glistening in the sunlight with the frosts of time; the other just budding into womanhood, fair as a poet's dream, with hair that vied with the gold of the sun and eyes of a heavenly blue.
She was leaning gently on the arm of her aged companion as they stood in the doorway of their southern home, gazing upon the surrounding landscape, until his eye had caught sight of an object in the distance which had startled the foregoing dialogue.
"I see him, grandpa!" she exclaimed, as her gaze followed the direction he pointed out.
"He seems to be coming this way, Mara. Who can it be?"
"I cannot tell, grandpa. Oh, in these terrible times I tremble lest every comer be a foe."
"Nay, child; I think we have nothing to fear. Ah, he heads more to the south. He is not coming here."
The maiden drew a breath of relief, and as the strange rider disappeared from sight a minute later, she said:
"He is gone. I am so glad, too. But, grandpa, have you forgotten that you were to go to Hammond's for me? You will have to start at once, while I shall have to look after my work."
"Yes, yes, Mara, my child. But hark! Dinah is calling for you now. I never saw such a troublesome nigger."
With the words he went into the house, leaving her still standing in the doorway.
She was about to follow her grandparent, when a moving object in the distance caught her gaze.
It looked like a man moving at the top of his speed.
"Who can it be?" she said, speaking aloud. "He is coming this way, too."
Not a little surprised and anxious she continued to watch and wait.
"It must be the horseman grandpa and I saw on the ridge," she mused. "And he is certainly coming here. I suppose I ought to rouse the folks, but little good that will do. Poor old grandpa is our only protection."
The approach of the stranger was no longer a matter of doubt.
In a few minutes he was within plain view.
The maiden saw that he was young--not more than twenty-one or twenty-two. He was handsome, too. Quite tall, broad-shouldered and with a countenance that Apollo might have envied.
But there was a haggard look upon his face, and he carried his left arm in a sling. His step, too, seemed uneasy and she saw that he had gone about as far as nature would permit him.
"A northern man--an accursed Yankee!" she exclaimed under her breath, somewhat fiercely.
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