The road through the forest led straight before them, but the trail of two hundred horses could not be hidden even by night.
They could turn into the forest and elude their pursuers, but, as Sherburne said, that meant abandoning their errand, and no one in all the group thought of such a thing.
Sherburne increased the pace a little now, while he tried to think of some way out.

Harry rode by his side in silence, and he, too, was seeking a solution.

Through the trees, now nearly leafless, they saw the blue line still coming, and the perplexities of the brave young captain grew fast.
But the night was coming down, and suddenly the long, lean figure of a man on the long, lean figure of a horse shot from the trees on their right and drew up by the side of Sherburne and Harry.
"Lankford, sir, Jim Lankford is my name," he said to Sherburne, touching one finger to his forehead in a queer kind of salute.
Harry saw that the man had a thin, clean-shaven face with a strong nose and chin.
"I 'low you're runnin' away from the Yankees," said Lankford to Sherburne.
Sherburne flushed, but no anger showed in his voice as he replied: "You're right, but we run for two reasons.

They're five to our one, and we have business elsewhere that mustn't be interrupted by fighting." "First reason is enough.

A man who fights five to one is five times a fool.