Everything was clear to the sagacious animal, who sped away like an arrow for the station miles distant.
“Ob all de disprobous treatment dis am de wust I eber had,” growled Jethro, who started Jilk down the trail after Firebug, who was now a number of rods distant. That the dusky horseman was in a state of terror need not be repeated. He forced his animal to a pace that quickly brought him beside the other.
“Go it, Firebug!” he called, and the pony changed his trot to a gallop which carried him swiftly down the incline, with Jilk at his heels. “I ’spose our folks am ’bout sebenteen thousand miles back somewhere and it’ll take me a week to find ’em if I got de chance.”
It was like running the gauntlet, when the endangered one expects a fatal blow at every step and is pretty sure to receive it. Jethro glanced to the right and left, over his shoulder and in advance.
The incline made the traveling easy. After reaching the level, there was no reason why the headlong pace should not be kept up for the remainder of the distance to the train.
Amid the fluttering hope and dread, the African nearly pitched from the saddle, when several whoops rang out in the stillness. He was so terrified he could not tell the direction whence they came, but he thought it was from the rear. He drove Jilk to his highest speed and Firebug increased his pace correspondingly.
The next instant the whoops sounded again, but they came from the front!
“Gorrynation!” gasped Jethro drawing on his bridle rein; “dey am on ebery side; de only way out ob dis muss is for Jilk to climb up de sides ob de rocks.”
Could he have believed he was not in plain view of his enemies, Jethro would have leaped from his saddle and hidden himself. He thought of doing it as matters stood, but dared not.