It was not fully light when the others rose from their primitive couches. Water was at hand, and after drinking and ablution, the group sat down to their morning meal, which disposed of the last remnant furnished by Vose Adams. While they were eating, he told of the occurrences of the night and was surprised that his companions made light of them. To them it was of less importance than to him.
“So long as they do no more than prowl about the camp,” remarked Captain Dawson, “we need feel no concern.”
“It seems to me,” said Brush, “that if the fellow intended mischief, he would have done it, but he has left no traces of anything of the kind.”
“Which was because the right kind of chance didn’t show itself,” said Vose; “if we don’t have a lively fight before this bus’ness is over, I’m much mistook, but it’s time we was moving.”
The guide seemed to have forgotten his resentment of the night before and his friends were too considerate to refer to it. It took but a short time to make the animals ready, when the procession started up the gorge, Vose, as usual, leading, with the captain next, then Wade Ruggles, while the parson brought up the rear, that position naturally falling to him.
Men and beasts were refreshed by their rest and food, and it required but a brief while to reach the top 295 of the gorge, where, as will be remembered, it terminated. It was here that Vose Adams began his fine work, and he showed no more hesitancy in drawing a “long bow,” than on the previous night, when pretending to account for his long absence.
“The trail leads to the right,” he said, with a glance at the ground, as if to refresh his memory.
His first thrill of misgiving came when he saw the parson pause and look searchingly at the ground. Had he possessed one-half the skill of Vose in trailing, he would have discovered that the guide was misleading them, but he did not have that cleverness nor did any other member of the party. The glance of the parson was perfunctory and his brief pause was to regain his breath after the short but laborious climb of the steep slope. Vose was watching him closely and quickly saw the meaning of his action, for, whatever Brush may have observed on the ground in front of him, it was not the faint impressions left on the stones by the fugitives. Neither the captain nor Ruggles so much as looked at the earth, accepting the dictum of their guide without question.
It was not deemed best to mount the animals, because of the roughness of the ground and the belief that they were close upon the parties for whom they were searching. Vose took care to turn so sharply to the right that they were speedily out of sight of the 296 spot where he had parted from the fugitives. Everything was going promisingly when Wade Ruggles startled his companions by the exclamation:
“Helloa! there’s that dog Timon!”