“I reckon so,” replied the mountaineer emphatically. “’Bout five miles up this pass you’ll come to a cove in which Jim Johnson’s house stood.  Some uv them gorillers attacked it, three nights ago.  Jim held ’em off with his double-barreled shotgun, ’til his wife an’ children could git out the back way.  Then he skedaddled hisself.  They plundered the house uv everythin’ wuth carryin’ off an’ then they burned it plum’ to the groun’.  Jim an’ his people near froze to death on the mounting, but they got at last to the cabin uv some uv their kin, whar they are now.  Then they’ve carried off all the hosses an’ cattle they kin find in the valleys an’ besides robbin’ everybody they’ve shot some good men.  Thar is shorely a good dose uv lead comin’ to every feller in that band.”

The mountaineer’s face for a moment contracted violently.  Dick saw that he was fairly burning for revenge.  Among his people the code of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth still prevailed, unquestioned, and there would be no pity for the guerrilla who might come under the muzzle of his rifle.  But his feelings were shown only for the moment.  In another instant, he was a stoic like the Indians whom he had displaced.  After a little silence he added: 

“That man Slade, who is the brains uv the outfit, is plum’ devil.  So fur ez his doin’s in these mountings are concerned he ain’t human at all.  He hez no mercy fur nuthin’ at no time.”

His words found an echo in Dick’s own mind.  He remembered how venomously Slade had hunted for his own life in the Southern marshes, and chance, since then, had brought them into opposition more than once.  Just as Harry had felt that there was a long contest between Shepard and himself, Dick felt that Slade and he were now to be pitted in a long and mortal combat.  But Shepard was a patriot, while Slade was a demon, if ever a man was.  If he were to have a particular enemy he was willing that it should be Slade, as he could see in him no redeeming quality that would cause him to stay his hand, if his own chance came.

“Have you any idea where the guerrillas are camped now?” asked Colonel Winchester.

“When we last heard uv ’em they wuz in Burton’s Cove,” replied the mountaineer, “though uv course they may hev moved sence then.  Still, the snow may hev held ’em.  It’s a-layin’ right deep on the mountings, an’ even the gorillers ain’t so anxious to plough thar way through it.”

“How long will it take us to reach Burton’s Cove?”

“It’s jest ez the weather sez, colonel.  Ef the snow holds off we might make it tomorrow afore dark, but ef the snow makes up its mind to come tumblin’ down ag’in, it’s the day after that, fur shore.”

“At any rate, another fall of snow is no harder for us than it is for them,” said the colonel, who showed the spirit of a true leader.  “Now, Mr. Reed, do you think we can find anybody on this road who will tell us where the band has gone?”