Still bearing in mind that it was their duty not merely to scatter but to destroy, he urged on the pursuit continually, and Shepard and the sergeant aided him.  They gave Slade and Skelly no time to reform their men, driving them from every clump of trees, when they attempted it, and continually reducing their numbers.

The rout was complete, and Dick’s heart beat high with triumph, because he knew that his force had been the striking arm.  They were nearly at the foot of the far side of the mountain, when he saw Slade among the bushes.  He shouted to him to surrender, but the outlaw, suddenly aiming a pistol, fired pointblank at the young lieutenant’s face.  Dick felt the bullet grazing his head, and he raised his own pistol to fire, but Slade was gone, and, although they trailed him a long distance in the snow, they did not find him.

CHAPTER XIV

THE MOUNTAIN SHARPSHOOTER

Colonel Winchester’s own mellow whistle finally recalled his men, as he did not wish them to become scattered among the mountains in pursuit of detached guerrillas.  Although the escape of both Slade and Skelly was a great disappointment the victory nevertheless was complete.  The two leaders could not rally the brigand force again, because it had ceased to exist.  Nearly half, caught between the jaws of the Union vise, had fallen, and most of the others were taken.  Perhaps not more than fifty had got away, and they would be lucky if they were not captured by the mountaineers.

Dick’s head was bound up hastily but skillfully by Sergeant Whitley and Shepard.  Slade’s bullet had merely cut under the hair a little, and the bandage stopped the flow of blood.  The sting, too, left, or in his triumph he did not notice it.  His elation, in truth, was great, as he had succeeded in carrying out the hardest part of a difficult and delicate operation.

As he led his men back toward the valley, their prisoners driven before them, he felt no weariness from his great exertions, and both his head and his feet were light.  At the rim of the valley Colonel Winchester met him, shook his hand with great heartiness, and congratulated him on his success, and Warner and Pennington, who were wholly without envy, added their own praise.

“I think it will be Captain Mason before long,” said Warner.  “Lots of boys under twenty are captains and some are colonels.  Your right to promotion is a mathematical certainty, and I can demonstrate it with numerous formulae from the little algebra which even now is in the inside pocket of my tunic.”

“Don’t draw the algebra!” exclaimed Pennington.  “We take your word for it, of course.”

“I shouldn’t want to be a captain,” said Dick sincerely, “unless you fellows became captains too.”

Further talk was interrupted by the necessity for care in making the steep descent into the valley, where the fires were blazing anew from the fresh wood which the young soldiers in their triumph had thrown upon the coals.  Nor did Colonel Winchester and his senior officers make any effort to restrain them, knowing that a little exultation was good for youth, after deeds well done.