“So far.”
Now both horses were pushed to a canter—until the path grew rough and steep. The doctor recognised this descent and listened for the sound of the rushing stream he had crossed both times under the guidance of the man with the scar. When the stream was washing the hoofs of their horses the doctor reached out to lay a hand on Eastman’s shoulder.
“My friend, we’re half-way!”
Eastman would have pressed ahead then, but the doctor would not permit it.
“Leave it to Bobby,” was his counsel. “Mr. Nick didn’t blindfold Bobby.”
The path ascended the long slope of a hogback. Pine needles covered the slope, and though the doctor dismounted a half-dozen times no path could be seen. But each time, as he stepped into the saddle again, the little horse went forward eagerly.
The hogback ended abruptly. Bobby turned to the left. The trip had seemed so short that now, as the doctor looked into the darkness below him, he could scarcely credit his senses.
“Eastman,” he said. “See below there!”
It was a spot of light.
From then on it was a wild ride. The horses did not leave the steep path; but they stumbled, slid or scrambled for a footing down the whole of the black descent. The doctor kept his eyes on the light. Eastman, divided between joy and fear, shouted out frenziedly toward the nearing shanty.