"
By this time one of the men had returned, and declared there was nothing
to prevent their advancing, and the party continued their march, but
with great deliberation and caution.
"Courage and prudence are the jewels of a soldier, Mrs. Flanagan," said
the sergeant; "without the one, the other may be said to be good
for nothing."
"Prudence without courage: is it _that_ you mane?--and it's so that I'm
thinking myself, sargeant. This baste pulls tight on the reins,
any way."
"Be patient, good woman; hark! what is that?" said Hollister, pricking
up his ears at the report of Wellmere's pistol. "I'll swear that was a
human pistol, and one from our regiment. Rear rank, close to the
front!--Mrs. Flanagan, I must leave you." So saying, having recovered
all his faculties, by hearing a sound that he understood, he placed
himself at the head of his men with an air of military pride, that the
darkness prevented the washerwoman from beholding. A volley of musketry
now rattled in the night wind, and the sergeant exclaimed,--
"March!--quick time!"
The next instant the trampling of a horse was heard coming up the road,
at a rate that announced a matter of life or death; and Hollister again
halted his party, riding a short distance in front himself, to meet
the rider.
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