out of town. When they were at
a trot Kirby joined their guide.

"How come you workin' on your critter's rump with a double of rope? Git
sight of some blue belly hangin' out to dry-gulch us?"

"We ain't too welcome hereabouts." Hart did look worried, and Drew was
alert.

"Yankees?" he asked.

Hart shook his head. "Just some of the boys; they don't want no
attention pulled this way, not right now."

The bank money--and the guerrillas. Yes, holding up the Cadiz bank if
and when any gold reached there, would appeal to the local irregulars,
who might be so irregular as to be on the cold side of the law, even in
wartime with the enemy their victim. Drew fitted one piece to another
and thought he could guess the full pattern.

Kirby looked from one to the other. Boyd was completely at a loss. A
moment later the Texan spoke again.

"Me, I'm never one to argue with local talent, specially if they wear
their Colts low and loose. Doin' that is apt to make a man wolf meat.
Wheah to now--this heah river?"

Drew nodded. The Cumberland must be scouted. And, after that, the more
formidable barrier of the Tennessee. He had not needed Pryor's warning
about the latter. Ever since they had left Bardstown and knew they were
headed for that barrier, Drew had been carrying worry at the back of his
mind.

But Pryor was also right about the Cumberland. Hart agreed to ride back
to the company with the information to direct them to the best crossing.
While Drew, Kirby, and Boyd went on to the last barrier between them and
eventual escape southwest.

Here the Tennessee was a flood, a narrow lake more than a river. As they
traveled its eastern bank Boyd halted now and again to study the waste
of water dubiously.

"It's wide," he said in a subdued voice. Kirby spat accurately at a leaf
drifting just below.

"Need us some fish fixin's heah," he agreed. "You swim?" he asked the
other two.

There had been ponds at home where both of them in childhood had paddled
about with most of the young male populations of Red Springs and Oak
Hill. But whether they could trust that somewhat limited skill to get
them over this flood was another matter.

"Some." Boyd appeared to have discovered caution.

"Me, I'm not sayin' yet," Kirby commented. "Splashin' 'round some in a
little-bitty wadin' pool, an' gittin' out in this, don't balance none.
Ain't every hoss takes kindly to water, neither. I'd say we'd better see
what's the chances of knockin'