"Right ye air, Allen."
To follow a trail under such circumstances was not easy, yet they found some tracks in the soft dirt directly in front of the cliff and these led on the back trail and then to where there was a deep ravine between the rocky slopes of the mountains.
Half a mile was covered and Watson called a halt.
"Ye want ter go slow yere," he cautioned, "I don't like the looks o' this territory nohow."
"What is wrong with it?"
"Full o' holes, fer one thing, and water under the surface. We'll go slow," and they did.
Occasionally it lightened and by the flashes of light they made out a fringe of woods skirting the hollow. The wind was coming up and this swept through the trees with a mournful sound.
They were moving with care when they heard a sudden yell ahead. It was Slavin calling to his horse.
"Back up!" they heard him cry. "Back, hang ye! De ye want ter pitch me in a hole?" And then followed a savage muttering they could not make out.
"We've got him!" cried Watson. "Come—but be careful, be careful."