Providentially, the advance were so close to the refuge that Gravity Gimp caught sight of the spot, and without looking around, he swung his hand over his head and exclaimed:
"Here we am! Here we am!"
"And that's the trouble," growled Habakkuk McEwen, crowding hard after him, "if we were only somewhere else, we'd feel a good deal better—leastways I would."
Another whoop was heard, then others at the rear, and those who glanced back caught sight of several warriors flitting among the trees and within the toss of a stone of them.
Brainerd would have fired again had it been in his power, but his gun was unloaded and it was impossible to ram a charge home, and pour the powder in the pan, without coming to a standstill for a minute or two, and such hesitation would be death.
Had the place of refuge toward which they were hastening been a dozen rods farther, not one of the fugitives would have reached it alive, but, at the critical moment, Gimp, the African, told the joyous news that it was at hand, and a general scramble followed.
The servant paused at the head of the elevated path, and turning around, beckoned excitedly for the others to hurry, when they were already doing their utmost, while he danced about and waited the few seconds necessary for them to reach him.
While he was doing so, Habakkuk McEwen suddenly vanished from sight, evidently concluding that the "time for disappearing" had come.
He had caught sight of the refuge, and with one bound he went down the declivity and was first to enter.
He took a sweeping glance of the interior, and was disappointed, for it was not what he expected, but it was far better than the open wilderness. He dashed for the narrow path on the outside, to take his part in yelling for the others to hurry up, or rather down.