About fifty yards away on the very crest of the mountain, and close to the edge of a precipitous cliff, a solitary horseman sat upon a black horse. He was peering intently into the valley from which they had just come. He was dressed in the unmistakable gray uniform of the Confederacy. He was in a position admirably screened by some small bushes from the valley below, but very conspicuous from where the Union scouts were concealed. His horse was black, a beautiful animal with a proud chest and sleek limbs. The man sat upon him like a centaur.
For five seconds the scouts in blue looked at him, then Halsey realized the fact that this Confederate scout had probably seen their camp and knew all about the Union cavalry. He would report to his comrades in the valley opposite. Instinctively Halsey's soldier's training asserted itself. There was a way to stop that. He raised his carbine to his shoulder and took a hasty aim. His finger was feeling for the trigger and had almost pressed it when a wild cry
