od weather--an'
we'll be right up wheah he wants us in no time--"

"The boys are out of ammunition," Drew said quietly. "And they are
tryin' to dig out the Yankees."

"You ain't tellin' me nothin', soldier, that I don't know or ain't
already heard." The momentary flash of anger had drained out of the
other's voice; there was just pure fatigue weighting the tongue now.
"We're comin', jus' as fast as we can--"

"You pull on about a quarter mile and there's a turnout; that way you'll
make better time," Drew suggested. "We'll show you where."

"All right. We're comin'."

In the end they all pitched to, lending the pulling strength of their
mounts, and the power of their own shoulders when the occasion demanded.
Somehow they got on through the dark and the cold and the mud. And close
to dawn they reached their goal.

But that same dark night had lost the Confederate Army their chance of
victory. The Union command had not been safely bottled up at Spring
Hill. Through the night hours Schofield's army had marched along the
turnpike, within gunshot of the gray troops, close enough for Hood's
pickets to hear the talk of the retreating men. Now they must be pursued
toward Franklin. The Army of the Tennessee was herding the Yankees right
enough, but with a kind of desperation which men in the ranks could
sense.

Buford's division held the Confederate right wing. Drew, acting as
courier for the Kentucky general, saw Forrest--with his tough,
undefeated, and undefeatable escort--riding ahead.

They had Wilson's Cavalry drawn up to meet them. But they had handled
Wilson before, briskly and brutally. This was the old game they knew
well. Drew saw the glitter of sabers along the Union ranks and smiled
grimly. When were the Yankees going to learn that a saber was good for
the toasting of bacon and such but not much use in the fight? Give him
two Colts and a carbine every time! There was a fancy dodge he had seen
some of the Texans use; they strung extra revolver cylinders to the
saddle horn and snapped them in for reloading. It was risky but sure was
fast.

"They've got Springfields." He heard Kirby's satisfied comment.

"I'm goin' to get me one of those," Boyd began, but Drew rounded on him
swiftly.

"No, you ain't! They may look good, but they ain't much. You can't
reload 'em in the saddle with your horse movin', and all they're good
for in a mixup is a fancy sort of club."

The Confederate infantry were moving up towar