Not to take the risk of delay on any unexplored short cut, we made straight for the ravine of our ascent, found it as by unerring instinct, and were presently racing down to the Indian trace in the little upland valley above the gorge.

For all the helter-skelter haste I found time to remember that the gorge as we had last seen it had been well besprinkled with armed Cherokees lying in wait for us.  If they were still there we should be like to have a hot welcome; and some reminder of this I gasped out to Yeates in mid flight.

“Ne’m mind that; if we run up ag’inst ’em anywhere, ’twon’t be there-away.  They’ve took the hint and quit; scattered out to hunt us long ago,” was his answer, jerked out between bounds.  And after that I loosed the Ferara in its sheath and saved my breath as I might for the killing business of the moment.

’Twas a sharp disappointment that, for all the haste of our mad scramble down the mountain, we were too late to surprise the secret of the enemy’s stronghold.  The Catawba was leading when we dashed down into the valley, and one glance sent him flying back to stop us short with a dumb show purporting that the quarry was already out of the defile and coming up the Indian path.

Richard swore grievously, but the old backwoodsman took the checkmate placidly and began to set the pieces for the second game in which the horses were the stake, hiding his useless rifle in a hollow tree,—­his powder had been soaked and spoiled in the early morning plunge for life,—­and drawing his hunting-knife to feel its edge and point.

“Ez I allow, that fotches us to the hoss-lifting,” he said, in his slow drawl.  Then he laid his commands upon us.  “Ord’ly, and in sojer-fashion, now; no whooping and yelling.  If the hoss-captain’s got scouts out a-s’arching for us, one good screech from these here varmints we’re a-going to put out’n their mis’ry ’u’d fix our flints for kingdom come.  I ain’t none afeard o’ your nerve,”—­this to Richard and me—­“leastwise, not when it comes to fair and square sojer-fighting.  But this here onfall has got to be like the smiting o’ the ’Malekites—­root and branch; and if ye’re tempted to be anywise marciful, jest ricollect that for the sake o’ them wimmen-folks we’ve got to have these hosses!”

You are not to suppose that he was holding us inactive while he thus exhorted us.  On the contrary, he was posting us skilfully beside the trace like the shrewd old Indian fighter that he was, with a rare and practised eye to the maximum of cover with the minimum of thicket tangle to impede the rush or to shorten the sword-swing.

But when all was done we were at this disadvantage; that since the enemy was close at hand we dared not cross the path to give our trap a jaw on either side.  To offset this, the Catawba dropped out of line and disappeared; and when the Cherokees were no more than a hundred yards away, Uncanoola came in sight a like distance in the opposite direction, running easily down the path to meet the up-coming riders.