Charles Egbert Craddock,
The raid of the guerilla, and other stories
“ Forthwith he mounted again, and the great charger galloped back, carrying double, in the red after-glow of the sunset, to the waiting group before the flaring doors of the forge.The fine flower of romance had blossomed incongruously in that eager heart in those fierce moments of the bitterness of defeat. Life suddenly had a new meaning, a fair and fragrant promise, and often and again he looked over his shoulder at the receding scene when the trumpets sang "to horse," and in the light of the moon the guerilla rode out of Tanglefoot Cove. ”
