"Come, you going to start? Your time's up. Speak quick!"
Pale as death and muttering a fearful curse, the renegade arose to his feet and faltered that he was ready.
"Trot along then, and we'll foller."
"Which way you going? This way?" he asked, turning his face in the direction of the Indian camp.
"I ruther guess not at present. Turn round t'other way 'zactly, don't turn your head, or try to come any of your dodges, for the minute you do, you'll be hacked to flinders, shot, and yur ha'r raised."
McGable wheeled around in the direction indicated, and started forward, our two friends following him closely. It was now quite dark, and the gloom in the wood was intense. There was no moon, and the sky was still cloudy and obscured. When the darkness became so great, Peterson took the renegade by one arm, Mansfield by the other, and the trio thus proceeded.
After walking an hour or so, the renegade, probably finding there was no immediate, personal danger, regained in some degree his courage and ventured to speak.
"I'd like to ask you a question. No 'bjection I s'pose."
"Not as long as you're respectful to your 'speriors," replied the ranger.
"Wal, then, how come you to find me?"