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It was the excitement and bitter humiliation that drove him on. He stumbled in the smoke against Sergeant Whitley. The sergeant's forehead had been creased by a bullet, but so much dust and burned gunpowder had gathered upon it that it was as black as the face of a black man. "Are we to lose after all?" exclaimed Dick.
Now let's git down ter biz right sharp." Whitley soon told enough of his story, omitting names and places, to let his companion understand the situation. When he had finished, Jake took a long pull from a bottle, and then said slowly: "An' ye want me ter put that feller what holds th' papers out o' yer' way?" Whitley nodded.
In the following spring another noted Indian fighter, less lucky than Whitley, was killed while leading one of these scouting parties. Wm. Finney to G. R. Clark, March 24 and 26, 1786. Also Wm. Col. William Christian, a very gallant and honorable man, was in command of the neighboring militia. At once, as was his wont, he raised a band of twenty men, and followed the plunderers across the Ohio.
When the two lads lay by a campfire that night Sergeant Whitley came to them with the news of the situation, which he had picked up in his usual deft and quiet way. "The Southern army is on the banks of the Cumberland," he said. "It has not been able to get its provisions by land through Cumberland Gap. Instead they have been brought by boats on the river.
The three youths responded quickly and with zeal, and Sergeant Whitley, when he was chosen, too, nodded in silent gratitude. The night was dark, overcast with clouds, and in an hour Colonel Winchester with his four departed upon his perilous mission.
I'm not hankerin' for fightin' an' I don't know much what the war's about though I'm for the Union, fust to last, an' that's the way most of the people 'bout here feel. Turn your heads ag'in, friends, an' take another look at Townsville." Dick and Whitley glanced back and saw only the blank gray wall of the mountain. Petty laughed. He was the finest laugher that Dick had ever heard.
"It's twenty-five miles, you tell me?" said Grierson to Dick. "As nearly as I can calculate, sir. It's through swampy country, but I think we ought to be there in three or four hours." "Then lead the way," said Grierson. "Like your colonel, I'll be glad to have a try at Forrest." Sergeant Whitley rode in advance.
"Thank you, sir, I'll do my best," said Dick, who deeply appreciated the colonel's confidence. He wasted no time in words, but went at once to Sergeant Whitley, who was ready in five minutes. Warner, who heard of the mission, was disappointed because he was not going too. But he was philosophical.
"Tell ye what, Mister Whitley, I'll chance her; but we ain't got no time ter talk now. We gotter git away from here, fer some er the boys 'll be along purty quick. We'll just mosey 'round fer a spell an' then go back ter th' corners.
Let x equal time and y equal opportunity. Then when x and y come together we shall have x plus y which will equal success. Does my logic seem cogent to you, Mr. Big Shoulders and Big Hands?" Whitley stared at him in amazement and admiration.
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