It was in a small depression enclosed by gorse and small trees that Lester directed them to dismount. Squatting on his haunches, he laid out a rough sketch map, his leather-gloved finger tracing out the direction in which they should follow. “Cairns was last sighted with a detachment of Jeb Stuart’s cavalry. Now, we don’t know what their overall plan is, but it is safe to assume that Stuart is about to—”
“How you know all this?” interjected Renshaw. He was sat on an outcrop of rock, rolling himself a cigarette. His entire disposition spoke of disinterest verging on contempt for Lester’s words.
“We had men in Stuart’s camp. He didn’t know that, of course, but the information they gave us enabled a detailed—”
“We had men in their camp?”
“As Rebs have men in ours.”
A silence spread out b
