eah no blue coat regular, but whiskey sounds sorta refreshin',
don't it, now?"

"Just so you only think that, Anse, and don't try any tastin'," Drew
warned. "We make our big talk to this captain, and then we move
out--fast. You boys know the drill?"

"Sure," Driscoll repeated. "We're the big raiders come to gobble up all
the blue bellies, 'less they walk out all nice an' peaceful, leavin'
their popguns behind 'em for better men to use. I'd say that theah was
the inn, Rennie--"

They saw their first Yankees, a blot of blue by the horse trough at the
edge of the center square. And Drew, surveying the enemy with a critical
and experienced eye, was sure that he was indeed meeting either green
troops or militia. They were as wide-eyed in their return stare as the
civilians on the streets around.

Kirby chuckled. "Strut it up, roosters," he urged from the corner of his
mouth. "Cutthroats, banditti, hoss thieves--jus' downright bad hombres,
that's us. They expect us to be on the peck, all horns an' rattles.
Don't disappoint 'em none! Their tails is half curled up already, an'
they're ready to run if a horny toad yells Boo!"

To the outward eye the three riding leisurely down the middle of the
Bardstown street had no interest in the soldiers by the trough. Drew in
the middle, the white rag dropping from the barrel of his carbine,
brought the black a step or two in advance. Just so had Castleman ridden
into Lexington earlier, and that had been at night with a far more wary
and dangerous enemy to face. The scout's confidence rose as he watched,
without making any show of his surveillance, the uneasy men ahead.

One of them broke away from the group, and ran into the inn.

"Wonder who's roddin' this outfit," Kirby remarked. "That fella's gone
to rout him out. Do your talkin' like a short-trigger man, Drew."

They pulled rein in front of the inn and sat their horses facing the
door through which the soldier had disappeared. His fellows edged
around the trough and stood in a straggling line to front the
Confederates.

"You!" Drew caught the eye of the nearest. "Tell your commanding officer
General Morgan's flag is here!"

The Yankee was young, almost as young as Boyd, but he had less assurance
than Boyd. Now the boy stammered a little as he answered:

"Yes ... yes, sir." Then he added in a rush, "General who, sir?"

"General John Hunt Morgan, Confederate Cavalry, Army of the Tennessee,
detached duty!" Drew made that as