It was evident
that they were signaling, but when one signals one usually signals to
somebody. His breath shortened for a moment. He believed that the man
in the tree was talking with his flag about the fugitive. Where was the
one to whom he was talking?
He looked to both left and right, searching the fields and the forests,
and saw nothing. Then, as he was sweeping his glasses again in a half
curve he caught a glimpse of something straight ahead that made the great
pulse in his throat beat hard. About a mile in front of him another man
in a tree was waving a flag and beneath the tree were horsemen.
Harry knew now that the two flags were talking about the Confederate
messenger between. The one behind said: "Look out! He's young, riding a
bay horse and he's coming directly toward you," to which the one in front
replied, "We're waiting. He can't escape us. There are fields with high
fences on either side of the road and if he manages to break through the
fence he's an easy capture in the soft and muddy ground there."
Harry thought hard and fast, while the two flags talked so contemptuously
about him. The fields were unquestionably deep with mud from the heavy
rains, but he must try them.
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