We will not be able to get across the ford before midnight." The orderly rode off, and the Colonel dismounted and walked forward with the cramped gait of a man who had been long in the saddle.
Still louder yells arose from the ford.

A powerful horse, ridden by an officer who was trying to force his way across, had slipped on the river's glassy bedstones, in the midst of a compact throng, and carried many with it down into the deep water below the crossing.
The Colonel's lip curled with contempt as he continued his walk.
A sharp little click sounded from Fortner's rifle.

He had set the hair trigger.
He stepped out clear of the tree, and gave a peculiar whistle.

The Colonel started as he heard the sound, looked up, saw who uttered it, and instinctively reached his hand back to the holster for a revolver.
Down would scarcely have been ruffled by Fortner's light touch upon the trigger.
Fire flamed from the rifle's muzzle.
The Colonel's haughty eyes became sterner than ever.

The holster was torn as he wrenched the revolver out.