“You hit the cooking pot in the reb camp!” Ditch laughed. “That ought to wake those fools up!”

“It’ll also let the blue bellies know we’re up here,” Pritchard said, tossing the rifle to Ditch and jumping on Rusty. “Let’s go!”

Sure enough, as they galloped down the hill, dozens of Union guns fired on them. The distance prevented accurate shooting, but the sheer volume of fire resulted in numerous balls whistling past the two horsemen as they rode pell-mell for the rebel camp.

Within the camp, the alarm was sounded. In no time, the Confederate soldiers took up arms, hastily cleared camp, and mounted. Soon, approximately one hundred horses bearing Confederate cavalrymen were racing east, away from Prairie Creek, and the Union troops behind them.

Pritchard and Ditch took an intersecting path, spurring their horses at maximum gallop, as they rode between the Union attackers and the fleeing rebel raiders. They continued to push the animals at full sprint until the Union balls stopped whistling at them. They closed in on the rebel horsemen ahead.

Just as they caught up to the rebel cavalry, a mile from the creek, the Confederates turned sharply northward and, as one, slowed to a trot. As Pritchard and Ditch entered their formation from the rear, a dozen or more rebs pivoted their mounts sharply and came about, their revolvers leveled, to face the newcomers.

“Whoa!” Ditch protested, his hands in the air along with Pritchard’s. “Don’t shoot. We’re friendlies.”

“Then why are you riding up on us?” a reb cavalryman demanded.

“What’s going on here?” Another rebel cavalryman rode up. He was tall, bearded, and wore a slouch hat with the right side pinned up by a star and feather. “What’s the holdup?”

“Caught these two ridin’ up on us, Cap’n,” the soldier reported. “They might’ve been the ones who fired on us from that hill.”

“We didn’t fire on you,” Ditch said. “We fired on your breakfast. It was the only way to warn you of the Union soldiers coming at you through the woods.”

“You made the shot from on top of that hill?” the captain asked, his eyebrows lifting.

“He did,” Ditch pointed to Pritchard, “with this here Hawken rifle.”

“What do you two boys want?”

“To join up.”

“Bring ’em along,” said the captain. “I want some distance between us and that Union infantry. We’ll sort this out later. Keep an eye on ’em, though.”

They rode until noon, with Ditch and Pritchard riding at the back of the column, surrounded by several rebel guerrillas. This frustrated Ditch, because he couldn’t determine if his brother was among any of the riders ahead.

The company stopped at a copse of trees with a small creek running through it and dismounted. When Ditch and Pritchard came out of their saddles, they were immediately covered again by several revolvers.