"He has found his man at last," said Harry, noticing his companion's att.i.tude, and picking up his own gun in readiness for what might come.

Fortner half-c.o.c.ked his rifle, took from its nipple the cap that had been there an hour and flung it away. He picked the powder out if the tube, replaced it with fresh from his horn, selected another cap carefully, fitted it on the nipple, and let the hammer down with the faintest snap to force it to its place.

His eyes had the look of a rattlesnake's when it coils for a spring, and his breast swelled out as if he was summoning all his strength. He stepped forward to a tree so lightly that there came no rustle from the dead leaves he trod upon. Harry took his place on the other side of the tree, and c.o.c.ked his musket.

So close were they to hundreds of Rebels with arms in their hands, that it seemed simply an invitation to death to call their attention.

Fortner turned and waved Harry back as he heard him approach, but Glen had apparently exhausted all his capacity for fearing, in the march upon Wildcat, and he was now calmly desperate.

The Colonel rode out from the throng toward the level spot at the base of the ledge upon which the two were concealed. The horse he bestrode was a magnificent thoroughbred, whose fine action could not be concealed, even by his great fatigue.

"Go and find Mars," said the Colonel to an orderly, "and tell him to build a fire against that rock there, and make us some coffee. We will not be able to get across the ford before midnight." The orderly rode off, and the Colonel dismounted and walked forward with the cramped gait of a man who had been long in the saddle.

Still louder yells arose from the ford. A powerful horse, ridden by an officer who was trying to force his way across, had slipped on the river's gla.s.sy bedstones, in the midst of a compact throng, and carried many with it down into the deep water below the crossing.

The Colonel's lip curled with contempt as he continued his walk.

A sharp little click sounded from Fortner's rifle. He had set the hair trigger.

He stepped out clear of the tree, and gave a peculiar whistle. The Colonel started as he heard the sound, looked up, saw who uttered it, and instinctively reached his hand back to the holster for a revolver.

Down would scarcely have been ruffled by Fortner's light touch upon the trigger.

Fire flamed from the rifle's muzzle.

The Colonel's haughty eyes became sterner than ever. The holster was torn as he wrenched the revolver out. A clutch at the mane, and he fell forward on the wet brown leaves--dead!

Dumb amazement filled the horse's great eyes; he stretched out his neck and smelled his lifeless master inquiringly.

A shot from Harry's musket, fifty from the astounded Rebels, and the two Unionists sped away unhurt into the cover of the dark cedars.

Chapter XI. Through the Mountains and the Night.

G.o.d sits upon the Throne of Kings, And Judges unto judgement brings: Why then so long Maintain your wrong, And favor lawlesss things?

Defend the poor, the fatherless; Their crying injuries redress: And vindicate The desolate, Whom wicked men oppress.

--George Sandy's Paraphrase of Psalm x.x.xII.

Fortner and Glen were soon so far away from the Ford that the only reminder of its neighborhood were occasional glimpses, caught through rifts in he forest, of the lofty slope of Rockcastle Mountain, now outlined in the gathering darkness by twinkling fires, which increased in number, and climbed higher towards the clouds as fast as the fugitives succeeded in struggling across the river.

"That's a wonderful sight," said Harry, as they paused on a summit to rest and catch breath. "It reminds me of some of the war scenes in Scott, or the Iliad."

"Hit looks ter me like a gineral c.o.o.n-hunt," said Fortner, "on'y over thar hit's the c.o.o.ns, an' not the hunters, that hev the torches. I wish I could put a b.u.m-sh.e.l.l inter every fire."

"You are merciless."

"No more'n they are. They've ez little marcy ez a pack o' wolves in a sheep-pen."

"Well," continued Fortner, meditatively, "Ole Rocka.s.sel's gittin' a glut to-night. She'd orten't ter need no more now fur a hundred yeahs."

"I don't understand you," said Harry.

"Why, they say thet the Rocka.s.sel hez ter hev a man every Spring an'

Fall. The Injuns believed hit, an' hit's bin so ever sence the white folks come inter the country. Last Spring hit war the turn o' the Fortner kin to gi'n her a man, an' she levied on a fust cousin o'

mine--a son o' Aunt Debby Brill. But less jog on; we've got a good piece fur ter go."

It was now night--black and starless, and the dense woods through which they were traveling made the darkness thick and impenetrable. But no check in Fortner's speed hinted at any ignorance of the course or encountering of obstacles. He continued to stride forward with the same swift, certain step as in the day time. But for Harry, who could see nothing but his leader's head and shoulders, and, whose every effort was required to keep these in sight, the journey was full of painful toil.

The relaxation from the intense strain manifested itself in proportion as they seemed to recede from the presence of the enemy, and his spirits flagged continually.

In the daylight the brush and briers had been annoying and hurtful, and the roughness of the way very trying. Now the one was wounding and cruel; the other made every step with his jaded limbs a torture. With the low spirits engendered by the great fatigue, came a return of the old fears and tremors. The continual wails of the wildcats roundabout filled him with gloomy forebodings. Every hair of his head stood stiffly up in mortal terror when a huge catamount, screaming like a fiend, leaped down from a tree, and confronted them for an instant with hideously-gleaming yellow eyes.

"Cuss-an'-burn the nasty varmint!" said Fortner angrily, s.n.a.t.c.hing up a pine knot from his feet and flinging it at the beast, which vanished into the darkness with another curdling scream.

"Don't that man know what fear is?" wondered Harry, ignorant that the true mountaineer feels toward these vociferous felidae about the same contempt with which a plainsman regards a coyote.

At length Fortner slackened his pace, and began to move with caution.

"Are we coming upon the enemy again?" asked Harry, in a loud whisper, which had yet a perceptible quaver in it.

"No," answered Fortner, "but we're a-comin' ter what is every bit an'

grain ez dangersome. Heah's whar the path winds round Blacksnake Clift, an' ye'll hev ter be ez keeful o' your footin' ez ef ye war treadin'

the slippery ways o' sin. The path's no wider 'n a hoss's back, an' no better ter walk on. On the right hand side hit's several rods down ter whar the creek's tearin' 'long like a mad dog. Heah hit now, can't ye?"

For some time the roar of the torrent sweeping the gorge had filled Harry's ears.

"Ye want ter walk slow," continued Fortner, "an' feel keefully with yer foot every time afore ye sot hit squar'ly down. Keep yer left hand a-feelin' the rocks above yer, so's ter make sh.o.r.e all the time thet ye're close ter 'em. 'Bout half way, thar's a big break in the path.

Hit's jess a long step acrost hit. Take one step arter I say thet I'm acrost; the feel keerfully with yer left foot fur the aidge o' the break, an' then step out ez long ez ye kin with yer right. That'll bring ye over. Be sh.o.r.e o' yer feet, an ye'll be all right."

Harry trembled more than at any time before. They were already on the path around the steep cliff. The darkness was inky. The roar of the waters below rose loudly--angrily. The wails of the wildcats behind, overhead and in front of them, made it seem as if the sighing pines and cedars were inhabited with lost spirits shrieking warnings of impending disaster.

Harry's foot came down upon a boulder which turned under his weight.

He regained his balance with a start, but the stone toppled over. He listened. There were scores of heart-beats before it splashed in the water below.

"Not so much as a twig between here and eternity," he said to himself, with a shudder. Then aloud: "Can't we stay here, some place, and not go along there to-night?"

The roar of the water drowned his voice before it reached Fortner's ears, and Harry, obeying the instinct to accept leadership, followed the mountaineer tremblingly.

In a little while he felt--more than saw--Fortner stop, adjust his feet, and make a long stride forward with one of them. Glen collected himself for the same effort. He had need of all of his resolution, for the many narrow escapes which he had made from slipping into the hungry torrent, had shaken every nerve.

"I'm over," called out Fortner. "Ye try hit now."

Harry balanced his gun so as to embarra.s.s him the least, and carefully felt with his left foot for the edge of the chasm. The catamount announced his renewed presence by a vindictive scream. The clouds parted just enough to let through a rift of gray light, but it fell not upon the brink of the black gap in the path. It showed for an instant the whirlpool, with fragments of tree trunks, of ghastly likeness to drowned human bodies, eddying dizzily around.