But the clouds floated away and then the light gleamed on the barrels of the short carbines that the horsemen carried.

From a point on the other side of the forest came the softened notes of a trumpet and the great pulse in Dick's throat leaped.

Only a few minutes more and they would be at the meeting of the ways.
Colonel Hertford sent a half dozen mounted skirmishers into the road, but the column moved forward at its even pace, still silvered in the moonlight, but ready for battle, wounds and death.

Sergeant Whitley whispered to Dick: "Other men than our own are moving in the forest.

I can hear the tread of horses' hoofs on the dry leaves and twigs at the far edge.