"Halt, you! Who comes there?"
"Friend!" came the answer, in an accent that was unmistakable.
"What friend? Where are you going?"
One of the advance-guard reined his horse across the road. The others
followed suit and blocked the way effectually. "Halt!" they roared
in unison.
The main body of the advance came up with them.
"Who is he?" shouted the sergeant.
"We'll soon see! Here he comes!"
"Out of my way!" yelled a voice, as a foamed-flecked horse burst
out of the darkness like an apparition and bore straight down on
them--his head bored a little to one side, the red rims of his nostrils
wide distended and his whole sense and energy, and strength concentrated
on pleasing the speed-hungry Irishman who rode him. He flashed into
them head-on, like a devil from the outer darkness. His head touched
a man's knee--and he rose and tried to jump him! "His breast crashed
full into the obstruction and horse and gunner crashed down to
the road.
A dozen arms reached out--twelve horses surged in a clattering melee--
two hands gripped the reins and four arms seized the rider, and in
a second the panting charger was brought up all-standing.
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