“It serves ’em right,” was his angry reflection; “when the leftenant spoke ’bout hunting up a new trail through the mountains, I oughter knowed he hain’t no sense and was sure to make a mess of things. Now’s he gone and sneaked off where these folks will stub their toes agin him; I’m ’sprised that the Queen didn’t hammer a little sense into his head.”
The guide was in a torture of apprehension. The impending outcome was likely to betray the deception he had used, but it was not for that he cared. There could be no mistaking the deadly mood of Captain Dawson and the equally intense hatred of Ruggles and Brush. A meeting with Lieutenant Russell made a frightful tragedy inevitable, and no one could be more vividly aware of the fact than the young officer himself, for Vose had impressed it upon him, but the guide in his anguish of spirit, saw no possible escape from it. He stolidly followed, striving to brace himself for what must soon come.
Meanwhile, the strange leadership continued. Timon seemed to be impatient, for occasionally he broke into a trot, abruptly pausing and looking back, as if to urge his followers to use more haste. Since they did not do so, he checked himself, when about to pass beyond sight and waited for them to draw near. He led them around boulders and masses of rocks, over ridges, down declivities, across one small stream, through a ravine and again among the precipitous piles of stone, until even the hardy men were well nigh exhausted. They had traveled fully a mile over a route that was of the most trying nature.
It was about this time that an extraordinary suspicion began forming in the mind of Vose Adams. He hardly dared give credence to it, but it took greater hold upon him with every few rods of advance. Nothing in the world would have induced him to make known his suspicion, but it continued to grow.
Suddenly Captain Dawson stopped. As he looked around his face was agitated.
“Boys,” said he, “there’s something infernally strange about this.”
Vose Adams saw that his own suspicion had entered the mind of their leader, but the countenance of the guide was as blank as that of a child.
“It’s the worst tramp I ever had,” remarked the parson, removing his hat and mopping his forehead.