“Follow me. And the less noise we make, the better.”
With Bill close on her heels, she led across the clearing toward the dark line of trees on their left, winding her way around rocky out-croppings and stunted bushes that made traveling in the dark a difficult proceeding.
“Think you can find the cart road?” she heard him whisper. “It’s black as your hat without the flash.”
“Sure can,” she replied cheerfully. “All we have to do is to turn right at the woods and follow them up the valley until we come to it. Quiet, now—if anybody’s, watching, we may be able to get by them in the dark.”
They had gone another twenty yards or so, when Dorothy stopped suddenly and caught at Bill’s arm.
“There’s somebody behind that big rock to the left!” she whispered fiercely. “I’m sure I saw something move.”
“You sure did, young lady,” announced a gruff voice close to their right. “Tell your girl friend not to make a fuss, Mr. Conway. My men are all around you.”
A tall figure, hardly more than a blur in the darkness, stepped from behind a tree and came toward them.
Chapter VII
RAVEN ROCKS
Bill Bolton dropped one of the gasoline tins he was carrying and grasping the other with both hands, hurled its heavy bulk at the stranger. The tin caught the man full in the chest.