Confederate outpost, it behooved me to act as quickly as possible.
Billie was headed somewhere, and the sooner I stopped him the
better--besides, my position was neither comfortable nor safe. I rolled
off from the edge of the canvas, and, gripping the chains tightly,
managed to sit up, in spite of the vicious pitching of the vehicle.
Billie's evident eagerness to arrive at his unknown destination only
added to my own recklessness, and I hung on desperately, swearing a
little, I fear, under my breath.

CHAPTER III

A FRIEND RATHER THAN AN ENEMY

There was only one way in which I could hope to get in--through the
back. That was an exceedingly ticklish job, yet I had tackled many a
ticklish job before during the two years of my scouting service, and the
knowledge of danger was merely the prick of a spur. The rusty buckles
holding the flap in place resisted the grip of my fingers, and, opening
a knife with my teeth, I cut the leather, severing enough of the straps
so the entire flap could be thrown back, yet holding it down closely to
its place until I was ready for action. Through a narrow opening I could
perceive a dim outline of the driver. He was at the right of the seat,
leaning forward, so as to peer out from under the hood, loosened reins
in one hand, a whip in the other. The darkness of the night enabled me
to perceive little except a vague sense of shape, a head crowned by a
soft hat, and an apparently slender figure.

Whatever slight noise I made was lost in the rattle of the wheels,
while the driver, utterly thoughtless as to any danger menacing him from
behind, concentrated his entire attention upon the road, and his efforts
to accelerate the speed of the pony. The present opportunity was as good
as I could ever hope for. I grasped the back of the seat with one hand,
a revolver in the other, pressed back the flap with my shoulder, and
inserted my head within. Not until my voice sounded at his very ear did
the fellow realize my presence.

"Pull up!" I said sternly. "Not a movement now; this is a gun at your
ear."

There was a sharp catch of the breath, a half turning of the head in the
surprise of the shock, but his hands held to reins and whip. Tossed
about as I was the fellow's coolness angered me.

"Pull up," I said; "do you think I'm playing with you?"

He drew in on the reins, letting the whip drop between his feet, and the
pony slowed down to a walk, and finally stopped. I could catch merely a