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remounts,’ Dusty said, shaking hands. ‘Tell him from me that we’ll likely need them in our retreat across the Red River.’
    ‘That’s one excuse I won’t use,’ chuckled Hoffinger. ‘I feel that by now he will be very touchy when that particular stream is mentioned. Good-bye, Captain Fog. With no disrespect, sir, I hope our paths don’t cross again.’
    ‘They might if you try to fetch in more of these remounts,’ Dusty warned.
    ‘That is a remote contingency, sir,’ Hoffinger sighed. ‘My continued employment depended on delivering this bunch.’
    ‘I’m real sorry to spoil it for you,’ Dusty said. ‘But I reckon a feller as talented as you’ll find some way of earning his living. Adios .’
    ‘That young man is going to annoy General Trumpeter before he’s through,’ Hoffinger told Glock as they watched the Texans drive the horses into the water.
    ‘He’s already done it,’ Glock answered, fingering his stomach and grinning with grudging admiration. ‘Damned if he didn’t fire a salute for the general, Billy Jack told me. Out of two of our mortars and right into the middle of a review Trumpeter was holding. Yes sir, Mr. Hoffinger, Trumpeter’s going to hate Dusty Fog’s name.’

CHAPTER FIVE

WE’VE GOT TO STOP THOSE GUNS!
    ‘THERE’S something up, Mr. Blaze!’ growled grizzled old Corporal Vern Hassle, bringing his horse to a sliding halt after returning at speed to the four-man scouting party sent ahead to learn what force of Yankees guarded the Snake Ford of the Caddo.
    It was almost noon on the day following the capture of Hoffinger’s horses and Company ‘C’ were travelling south-east as fast as they could manage accompanied by the remounts and heavy draught animals. They had seen no sign of pursuit, but Kiowa kept watch on their back-trail. The previous night, in camp, Dusty and Red had studied their maps and decided where they could best make their crossing into Rebel territory.
    Every ford along the Caddo and Ouachita Rivers was guarded by detachments of Confederate and Union troops. In addition, both sides kept patrols moving along the rivers’ banks to watch for infiltration by the enemy. On their way out, Company ‘C’ had crossed at an unguarded stretch of fast-flowing water through which only expert horsemen could pass. Using the same place on their return would be dangerous for they had a large bunch of riderless horses with them. To make a crossing would be a lengthy process and leave them open to attack should a Yankee patrol locate them.
    While there had been two fords closer, Dusty had selected Snake Ford. The other two had to be approached across open, level ground with no chance of taking the Yankees by surprise. Snake Ford lay in a wide, winding valley. Being of little military importance, it was held by a company of Stedloe’s Zouaves and a platoon of Dragoons. On the other side, a full battalion of Arkansas Rifles could be swiftly brought up to support the Texans in their crossing. The strength of Rifles stemmed from the fact that the ford was in the centre of their regiment’s patrol area, rather than concern over holding on to it.
    Wanting to make his dash across the river with few if any casualties, Dusty had sent Red ahead to see if the Yankees were watching their rear. Trained in Indian warfare, Vern Hassle ran Kiowa a close second in ability. He had advanced to make a scout and his return heralded trouble.
    ‘What’s up?’ Red demanded.
    Before Hassle could reply, Red heard the staccato blast of a bugle blowing the ‘alarm’. Faint shouts wafted back to the Texan’s ears, followed by the crackle of rifle shots.
    ‘That!’ Hassle replied. “When I left, the Arkansas boys were forming up like they’re fixing to attack the ford — and there’s a battery of cannon on this side.’
    ‘Let’s go!’ Red barked. ‘Is anybody watching this way, Vern?’
    ‘Nope,’ the corporal answered; then the four horses were running.
    Urging their