The trail was clay with a few small stones embedded in it, and the horses made little noise in their descent, except once when Elsie’s animal slipped and sent a loosened bit of rock rolling down to splash in some pool below.  We came to the bank of the creek at last, a narrow stream, easily fordable, but with a rather steep shore line beyond, and waited there a moment until Tim emerged from out the black woods at our right and joined us.  He was mounted, and, believing the time had arrived for more rapid movement, I also swung up into saddle and ranged the girl’s horse beside mine.

“It looks to be open country beyond there,” I said, pointing across, “what little I can see of it.  You better ride the other side of Miss Beaucaire, Tim, and help me hold her up—­the colored girl can trail behind.  We’ll jog the horses a bit.”

They were not stock to be proud of, yet they did fairly well, Tim’s mount evidently the best of the four.  The going was decidedly better once we had topped the bank.  The stars were bright enough overhead to render the well-marked trail easily visible, and this led directly southward, across a rolling plain.  We may have ridden for two miles without a word, for, although I had no intention of proceeding far in this direction, I could discover no opportunity for changing our course, so as to baffle pursuit.  That Kirby and Rale would endeavor to follow us at the earliest opportunity was most probable.  They were neither of them the sort to accept defeat without a struggle, and, after the treatment they had received, the desire for revenge would be uppermost.  Nor thus far would there be any difficulty in their picking up our trail, at least as far as the creek crossing, and this would assure them the direction we had chosen.  Beyond the ford tracing our movements might prove more troublesome, as the short, wiry grass under foot, retained but slight imprint of unshod hoofs, the soil beneath being of a hard clay.  Yet to strike directly out across the prairie would be a dangerous experiment.

Then suddenly, out of the mysterious darkness which closed us in, another grove loomed up immediately in our front, and the trail plunged sharply downward into the depths of a rugged ravine.  I was obliged to dismount and feel my way cautiously to the bottom, delighted to discover there a smoothly flowing, narrow stream, running from the eastward between high banks, overhung by trees.  It was a dismal, gloomy spot, a veritable cave of darkness, yet apparently the very place I had been seeking for our purpose.  I could not even perceive the others, but the restless movement of their horses told me of their presence.

“Kennedy.”

“Right yere, sir.  Lord, but it’s dark—­found enything?”

“There is a creek here.  I don’t know where it flows from, but it seems to come out of the east.  One thing is certain, we have got to get off this trail.  If we can lead the horses up stream a way and then circle back it would keep those fellows guessing for a while.  Come here and see what you think of the chance.”