They passed down through the station and took the trail leading up the Kanawha.
As they walked onward, chatting gayly together, they had no suspicion that they were closely followed by three men, who, holding a consultation together on the edge of the timber, had noticed them as they passed.
Leaving the trail, the girl and the young man walked into the ravine.
The three men, who had followed him so closely, paused at the entrance to the gorge, apparently to consult together.
“The fellow is her lover, as I guessed,” said the foremost of the three, the one who had been the most eager to follow the two.
“It looks like it,” said the taller of the two others, who was the dark skinned stranger, who had called himself Benton. The third one of the party was a worthless fellow who hung about the station, ready to drink “corn-juice” when he could get it, and fit for but little else. He was known as Bob Tierson.
“I’d gi’n him a load of buckshot ef he came arter my gal!” said Bob, who was somewhat given to boasting.
“Perhaps I may,” replied Murdock, who was the leader of the party. He spoke with an angry voice, and a lowering cloud was upon his sallow face.
“If the young fellow was out of the way, this would be a good opportunity to try the Indian game,” said Benton, suggestively.