It would have been the height of imprudence, however, had he acted upon such a belief, after what had so recently occurred, and when a safe and certain test was at his command.
He emitted a low tremulous whistle of such a musical tone that it reached a goodly distance in spite of the gale.
"That can be heard further than the neigh, and, if it finds the ear of Jack, no one can restrain him from coming to me."
But though the call was repeated there was no response. The alarming conclusion was unavoidable: the sound had been made by an Indian pony near at hand.
Aware that his own situation, despite the darkness, was perilous, the youth sat down on the frosty earth, near the edge of the bank, until he could gain some idea of his bearings.
Within the next ten seconds the whinny was repeated, and this time seemingly within a dozen feet, but below the bank, and consequently between him and the water.
He knew what it meant: the hostiles had crossed the stream lower down, and were ascending it in the search for the fugitives. But for the fact that one of their ponies showed a strange lack of training, the youth would have run right into them.
It might be that the reckless horse was a captured one!
They were so close, however, that Brinton did not dare to flee, especially as he did not know in which direction safety lay. He lay flat on the earth, with his head just above the edge of the bank, so that had there been any light he could have seen what was going on below.
It is rare that a night is totally devoid of the least ray of illumination. Brinton, therefore, could never believe he was mistaken when, peering down into the gloom, he fancied he discerned the shadowy outlines of a horseman move slowly in front of him, like the figure of the magic lantern. It melted in the gloom, and then came another and another, until he counted six. The sounds of the hoofs on the hard ground removed the doubt which otherwise he might have felt.