Dick felt like a primitive man who knew that he was being stalked by a saber-toothed tiger through the dense forest.
Colonel Winchester beckoned to Sergeant Whitley.

"Pick a half-dozen sharp-eyed men," he said, "and ride into those woods.

You're experienced in this kind of war, Whitley, and before you go tell me what you think." "General Forrest, sir, besides fighting as a white man fights, fights like an Indian, too; that is, he uses an Indian's cunning, which is always meant for ambush and surprise.

He isn't dreaming of going away.
They're coming back through the thick woods." "So I think.

But let me know as soon as you can." Ten minutes after the sergeant had ridden forward with his comrades they heard the sound of rapid rifle shots, and then they saw the little band galloping back.
"They're coming, sir," reported the sergeant.