Then the others gave way, and the two black forms
pursued. There were some wild shots fired back, as they fled toward
the wood beyond the road.
Then from its depths came a flash and a roar. A ball went shrieking
by them and flew away into the darkness beyond. Another, and another
and another! It was not the sharp, short crack of the revolver, but
the fierce angry challenge of the rifle. They had heard it before
upon the battle-field, and terror lent them wings as they fled.
The hurtling missiles flew here and there, wherever a masked form
could be seen, and pursued their fleeing shadows into the wood,
glancing from tree to tree, cutting through spine and branch and
splintering bole, until the last echo of their footsteps had died
away.
Then all was still, except the roar of the burning church and the
solemn soughing of the pines, as the rising west wind rustled their
branches.
Nimbus and his wife stood listening in the shade of a low oak,
between the scene of conflict and the highway. No sound of the
flying enemy could be heard.
"Nimbus! _Oh_, Nimbus!" the words came in a strained, low
whisper from the unclad figure at his side.
"Wal, 'Gena?"
"Is you hurt, honey?"
"Nary bit. How should I be? They run away ez quick ez I come. Did
they 'buse you, 'Gena?"
"None of enny 'count," she answered, cautiously, for fear of raising
his anger to a point beyond control--"only jest a tryin' ter make
me tell whar you was--you an' 'Liab.
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