Early in the morning Rodney and those with him moved on again. Everybody in the party was exceedingly sober. All realized their great danger. The fate of Stephen Banoggin and his party was ever before their eyes and in their thoughts.
CHAPTER IX
UNDER THE CLIFF
“Thank fortune we have come so far without injury!”
It was Rodney who uttered the words. He and Sam Barringford were standing on a little rise of ground, the trail in front and behind them. The warm noonday sun shone down upon them, and all was calm and peaceful with not an enemy of any kind in sight. Close at hand Dobson and his wife were preparing a meal for all hands and little Nell was playing with the twins.
Two days had passed since they had left the fateful ford, and they had covered thirty-two miles, over a trail which the past rains had left in anything but a good condition. They had been on guard every minute, day and night, their nerves strung to top tension. The early morning had taken them through a spot lined upon either side with tall rocks, and they had expected a shot at almost every turn—but nothing had come to disturb them.
Considering the condition of the road, the horses had done well. Only one was injured,—from slipping over some rocks,—but he could still carry his load. Nobody was sick, although the constant worry had given Mrs. Dobson a headache.
“While we are waiting for dinner, let us go ahead and look at the trail,” suggested Rodney; and Barringford agreed. Not far off was another hollow, backed by a cliff of rocks, overgrown with heavy vines, and they were both anxious to know what was beyond.
They gained the region of the cliff without difficulty. To save himself the trouble of climbing the rough rocks, Rodney tested the vines and then commenced to pull himself up, hand over hand.
“Be careful that you don’t fall!” cried the old frontiersman. “These rocks at the bottom ain’t no easy bed to drop on, I kin tell ye thet!”
“The vines are strong enough to hold a horse,” answered the young soldier.