"Going to the gulch—all right," he mumbled, when they were quite near their destination, "want to go into the fort; that's the place for you folks."
The scout stopped as suddenly as if he had run against the trunk of a tree. Despite his broken utterance, a vague sense of his situation was gradually forcing itself upon him.
He realized, in a dim but increasingly distinct way, the necessity of throwing off the spell which muddled his brain. As he repeated and renewed the effort, he gained more strength.
Holding himself somewhat unsteadily, he looked around in the gloom at his elder escort, and demanded:
"Where going?"
"We are trying to reach the block-house, but it's a long way off. We are now close to Rattlesnake Gulch."
"That's all right," repeated Deane, wobbling forward again; "going to the fort—our fort."
Jim Deane stopped abruptly as before, and blinked and started in the vain effort to penetrate the gloom in which all were enveloped. His companions noted that he was now able to maintain the erect position without any help from them.
"Can't you get a candle?" he asked, his brain still muddled, "too dark to see; get candle, and I'll show you the fort."
The company was now so near Rattlesnake Gulch that Weber Hastings, the guide, decided it would not do to approach any closer. They must await the coming of Kenton before doing anything further.