"Chester is right," agreed Captain Anderson. "Come, Hal, we had better
be moving."
Hal nodded, and gave a brief word of command. Immediately the little
troop of cavalrymen, afoot now, moved slowly down the road in the
darkness. They went forward briskly and the hand of every man rested
on his weapon, for the mysterious death of their companion had been
a warning they could not but heed. There was no telling what foes
might lurk in the blackness of the bushes that lined either side of
the highway.
Anthony Stubbs, war correspondent, had been unable to force himself
into the center of the British troops, and was now bringing up the
rear. Now and then he tried to insert himself between the men in front
of him, but all such attempts had proved futile. The British did not
intend to lose their formation in order to allow him to reach a place
of comparative safety.
As Stubbs stumbled along in the darkness, he cast furtive glances
over his shoulder and peered intently into the bushes, first on one
side and then on the other; and as he plodded on he mumbled
continually to himself.
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