He looked down toward the bridge. There were moving blobs of dust Crossing it⁠—men on horses. His heart gave a strange Throb of desire. What were they? They looked like soldiers. Blue coats or grey? He could not tell for the dust. He’d have to get back in the woods before they passed, He was a hider now. But he kept on staring A long two minutes, trying to make them out, Till his eyes stung. One man had a yellow beard And carried his rifle slung the Missouri way But there were Missouri troops on either side. In a minute he could tell⁠—and wriggle away⁠—