Part 15 (1/2)
”You think we can keep out of their hands?”
”I trust so; the night ain't many hours away, and if we can only keep clear till then, why, all right. I hain't seen the Injin yet, Miami or Shawnee, that could foller a track in the night-time.”
”They did not see us come out of the ravine. How will they know enough of our direction to keep up the pursuit?”
”Injin is Injin, and the dirt I made in scratching out of there will be seen by a dozen of their snaky eyes.”
”How far, dear friend, did you say it is to the settlement?”
”Full twenty miles.”
”We can reach it, then, by traveling all night?”
”Yes, very easy, if you can hold out till the darkness comes on.”
”I hope I can, but I am so terribly worn out that I must go very slowly. You said it was the best for _you_ that we should undertake this journey alone, through the woods. What did you mean by saying that?”
”I will tell you some other time,” replied the hunter, in great embarra.s.sment. ”I done so that I might be _alone with you_.”
Edith looked earnestly at him, as though she would read his very soul.
She was about to speak, when the appalling yells of the human bloodhounds sounded so fearfully near, that her very blood seemed to curdle in her veins.
”Where shall we fly?” she asked, looking up imploringly in the face of the hunter.
”Come on as rapidly as you can,” he replied, again supporting her.
Great as were the apprehension and terror of Edith, she could but notice the singular conduct of her companion. He kept constantly looking around, not as though he expected danger, but as if searching for something. The cause of this was soon manifest.
”Edith,” said he, ”it will be full two hours afore there'll be enough darkness to do us any good. Can you stand it till then?”
”I can _stand_ it,” she answered, with a sad laugh, ”but I can not _run_ it.”
”We must either run or be took. Now, _my dearest_ _one_, you've done enough to kill a dozen common women, and you shouldn't try to do more, and I don't intend to let you.”
”But how can---- Oh, Heavenly Father! hear those shouts--but how can you prevent it?”
”I must leave you behind.”
Edith's eyes dilated with horror, now doubly intensified.
”Don't think for a minute,” the hunter hastened to say, ”that I intend to desart you. No, no; may the lightning strike me down if I could ever do such a thing. What I mean is, that I must hide you till night, when I'll come back, and we'll go on, taking things comfortably.”
”It must be done quickly. Don't wait a minute.”
The Rifleman led the way to some thick, dense bushes and without approaching them very closely, signified her to enter them. She did so, with considerable difficulty, and when she had entered and covered away, he could see nothing of her.
”Stay there till I come,” said he, ”and be careful and not put your head out, if you hear any noise.”
”How shall I know whether it is you or not?”