Shepard had left his horse, and was
endeavoring to reach him by stealth.
Leaving his own horse, he crept a little to the right, and then rising
carefully in another thicket he picked out every dark spot in the gloom.
He made out presently the figure of a riderless horse, standing partly
behind the trunk of an oak, larger than most of those that grew in the
Wilderness.
Harry knew that it was Shepard's mount and that Shepard himself was some
distance in front of it creeping toward the thicket which he supposed
sheltered his foe. There was barely enough light for Harry to see the
horse's head and regretfully he raised his heavy pistol. But it had to
be done, and when his aim was true he pulled the trigger.
The report of the pistol was almost like the roar of a cannon in the
desolate Wilderness and made Harry himself jump. Then he promptly threw
himself flat upon his face. Shepard's answering fire came from a point
about thirty yards in front of the horse, and the bullet passed very
close over Harry's head. It was a marvelous shot to be made merely at
the place from which a sound had come. It all passed in a flash, and
the next moment Harry heard the sound of a horse falling and kicking a
little.
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