The firing had ceased, and a half-dozen dismounted men were carefully approaching the spot whence he had sent the fatal shot.

He heard the Captain order a man to ride back and bring up the wagon, that the body of the dead man might be put in it.

As the wagon was heard rumbling up, the dismounted men reported to the Captain that the bushwhacker had made good his escape and was no longer behind the rock.
"Well, he hasn't gone very far," said the Captain with a savage oath.
"He can't have got any distance away, and I'll have him, dead or alive, before I leave this spot.

The whole gang of Lincolnite hellhounds are treed right up there, and not one of them shall get away alive." He put a bone whistle to his lips, and sounded a shrill signal.

A horseman trotted up from the rear in response to the call, leading a hound with a leash.