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Just then three or four balls whizzed close to Lawrence's head. Wheeling his horse, he shouted, "Follow me!" and the rear guard went down the road as if in swift retreat. The enemy followed with wild cheers.

The rapid pursuit had strung out the Confederates, and Major Powell had ridden back to hurry up the stragglers, leaving the advance in charge of his senior captain. This officer, thinking the Yankees in full retreat, and that he might gain some honor, pressed the pursuit with vigor.

Straight past where Dan and his men were concealed, Lawrence rode, but he halted his little squad where the valley narrowed.

If the Confederates had not been so eager in the pursuit, they might have seen the bushes tremble or caught the gleam of a gun barrel; but they only had eyes for the flying Yankees. When they saw the Federals had halted, they also halted, taking time to close up, and that was just what Lawrence wanted.

Ordering his men to fire a volley, Lawrence again wheeled as if in retreat.

"Forward!" shouted the Confederate captain. "Charge! Ride over them!"

Suddenly, from the side of the road, there came a crashing volley. The destruction was awful; men and horses went down in heaps.

"Wheel and charge!" shouted Lawrence; and down on the terror-stricken Confederates came Lawrence with his ten men. The panic became a rout.

The enemy thought only of getting away. In vain Major Powell tried to stop his men; he, too, was borne back in the confusion.

Quickly as possible, Dan had the horses brought up, and he and his men joined in the pursuit. For two miles it was kept up; then Lawrence ordered a halt. He saw that Major Powell had succeeded in rallying some of his men, and taken a position that could not be carried without loss.

All along the road lay dead and wounded men and horses, and where the first volley was fired the road was filled with the dead and dying.

It was a sight that made Lawrence's heart ache; but he could not stop even to give relief, for Harry and Jack came back with the startling news that there was a large force in front, not more than three miles away.

Lawrence rallied his men, and, to his intense relief, found he had only three men slightly wounded. It was almost a bloodless victory. The question was, what to do now. While debating, one of the men suddenly exclaimed, "Look, there!"

On a rock on the mountain-side, some three hundred yards away, stood the figure of an old man. A long white beard swept his breast, and he was bent with age. He stood leaning on a staff, as if weary.

[Illustration: An old man leaning on a staff.]

When he saw he was seen, he beckoned for some one to come to him. Two or three of the soldiers started, but he peremptorily waved them back.

Lawrence then started, and the old man stood still.

"Don't go, Captain," cried the men. "It may be a trap."

"I will be careful," replied Lawrence. "Shoot at the first sign of treachery."

A dozen carbines covered the old man, but he did not seem to notice it.

When Lawrence was within about fifty yards of him, he motioned for him to stop; then, in a high, cracked voice, exclaimed: "There is danger ahead."

"I know it," replied Lawrence.

"A little ahead, close to that large tree, you will find a faint trail.

Take it. It will lead you over the mountain into another valley, where you can go on your way in safety. Delay twenty minutes, and all will be lost. Farewell."

The old man stepped from the rock and disappeared. Lawrence rushed to where he had been standing. Nothing was to be seen. It was as if the earth had swallowed him.

He returned and told what had happened, and the wonderment was great.

"No time to lose," exclaimed Lawrence. "I shall take his advice."

In single file, the men turned into the trail. The way was steep, but not impassable, and soon the forest swallowed them up.

Not until they were over the mountain, was there any opportunity of discussing the strange warning they had received.

"Can it be that old man has been our guardian angel all the time?" asked Lawrence.

"Impossible," said Dan. "We received the first warning when we had hardly left the valley of La Belle. We have come fast. How could that old man have come over the mountains and got ahead of us?"

"And where did he go when he disappeared so suddenly?" asked one.

"And who shot the guerrilla?" questioned another.

"It's a secret only the mountains can tell. I have heard they were haunted," said Dan.

"It's God's hand," said one of the men, a solemn, clerical-looking fellow, whom the men called Preacher. Before he was a soldier, he had been a Methodist class leader; and there was not a braver man in the company.

Argue as they might, they could come to no conclusion. To them it was a mystery that was never solved.

It was weeks before Lawrence fully knew of the danger from which the old man had saved him. Captain Turner, in his swift ride to get ahead of him, had fallen in with a scouting party of fifty Confederate cavalry; not only this, but his force had been augmented by guerrillas until he had fully two hundred men, well armed and mounted. Had Lawrence met this force in the narrow valley, he could not have escaped defeat.

The horror and amazement of the advance guard of Turner's force may be imagined when they came upon the scene of conflict. That the battle had just been fought, was evident; the smoke of the conflict had not entirely cleared from the field. What was more surprising, not an armed man was in sight--neither Federal nor Confederate.

They listened, but could hear no sound of conflict. Captain Turner came up. For a moment he gazed on the scene of carnage, and then cried: "Great God! Major Powell ran into an ambuscade, and his force has been annihilated. The dead are all our men. But where are the Yankees?"

"Doubtless in pursuit of the few of the Major's force that escaped,"

replied an officer.

"That is so," cried Turner. "Forward, men! Let our war-cry be: 'Powell and Revenge!' Give no quarter! Let every one of the cursed Yankees die."

They rode nearly four miles before they came on to Major Powell and the remnant of his force. They had continued falling back until they were certain they were not pursued.

Of his hundred men, the Major had succeeded in rallying about forty. The rest had been killed or wounded, or had fled. Some of them did not stop until they reached the valley of La Belle, bringing with them the story of the disaster, saying that of all of Powell's force they alone escaped.

"Did you meet and exterminate the Yankees?" was the first question put to Captain Turner by Major Powell.

"I have seen no Yankees," was the surprising answer.

Major Powell could only gasp, "Seen no Yankees?"

"No; not one."

"Then the mountains must have opened and swallowed them."

Full explanations were made, and the force returned to bury the dead and care for the wounded. The only possible explanation they could make for the disappearance of the Federals was that they had hid on the mountain-side and let the force of Captain Turner pass, then come down and resumed their flight.

As they debated, suddenly, above them, on the mountain-side, appeared the figure of an old man, and his voice came down to them, loud and shrill: "Woe, woe, woe to them who raise their hands against the flag of their country!"

"Damn him! Fire!" shouted Turner.

A hundred rifles blazed. There came back to them a mocking laugh, and the old man disappeared. The mountain was scoured, but not a trace of him could be found.

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