"Unless
they've stretched pretty wide lines of pickets I can lead you, sir,
within four hundred yards of Frankfort, where you can stay under cover
yourself and look right down into it. I guess by this good moonlight I
could point out old Bragg himself, if he should be up and walking around
the streets."
"That suits us, Powell," said Colonel Winchester. "You and May lead the
way."
May was the other Frankforter and they took the task eagerly. They
were about to look down upon home after an absence of more than a year,
a year that was more than a normal ten. They were both young, not over
twenty, and after a while they turned out of the path and led into the
deep woods.
"It's open forest through here, no underbrush, colonel," said Powell,
"and it makes easy riding. Besides, about a mile on there's a creek
running down to the Kentucky that will have deep water in it, no matter
how dry the season has been. Tom May and I have swum in it many a time,
and I reckon our horses need water, colonel."
"So they do, and so do we. We'll stop a bit at this creek of yours,
Powell.
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