nt
because of that fact. This was either one of the wealthy planters of the
district or some important inhabitant of Cadiz. There was a wagon
drawing up behind him, a span of well-cared-for mules in harness with a
Negro driver.

The mules held Drew's attention. King's reaction to that sudden whistle
was a warning. He had no wish to ride such an animal into a picket
skirmish. The sleekness of the mules appealed to his desire to rid
himself of the unmanageable stud.

Now he edged the sidling King closer to the wagon. The driver watched
him with apprehension. Whether he guessed Drew's intention or whether he
dreaded the near approach of the stallion was a question which did not
bother the scout.

"You there," Drew hailed the driver. "I'll take one of those mules!"

As always, he hated these enforced trades and spoke in a peremptory way,
wanting to get the matter finished.

"You, suh--" the solid citizen turned his horse to face the scout--"what
gives you the right to take that mule?"

With a visible sigh of relief, the Negro relaxed on the driver's seat,
willing to let the other carry on the argument.

"Nothing, except I have to have a mount I can depend upon." Drew did not
know why he was explaining, or even why he wanted the mule so acutely
right now. Except that he was tired, tired of the days in the saddle, of
being on the run, of these small Kentucky towns into which they rode to
loot and ride off again. The Yankees in Bardstown had been fair game,
and their bluff there had been an adventure. But Calhoun left a sour
taste in his mouth, and he didn't like the vague order which had brought
him to Cadiz. So his dislike boiled over, to settle into a sullen
determination to rid himself of one irritation--this undependable horse.

"Do I assume, suh, that you are part of General Morgan's command?" Sharp
blue eyes studied Drew across the well-curried backs of the mules.

"Yes, suh."

The man gave a nod, which might have been for some thought of his own.

"We have heard some rumors of your coming, suh," the other continued.
"You, Nelson," he spoke to the Negro, "take this team up to the livery
stable and tell Mr. Emory I want Hannibal saddled! Then you bring him
back here and give him to this gentleman!"

"Yes, suh. Hannibal--wi' saddle--for this young gentlem'n."

"Hannibal, suh," the man said to Drew, "is a mule, but a remarkable one,
riding trained and strong. I think you will find him quite usable. Do I
und