They paused presently at the rendezvous where their kinsmen presently would join them, granted Bullock had been successful in passing the feudal torch. Trasker talked yet further.
“He was a great old sport, yore daddy,” said he. “I reckon he was shot in half a dozen places in his time. Seemed like they couldn’t kill him, nohow. An’ him an’ old Absalom had it fist an’ skull together more’n once in their day.”
Joslin nodded. “That was afore he took up preachin’. Heathen—why, we all been worse’n ary heathen in the world. An’ here’s ye an’ me worse’n ary heathen right now, ridin’ out to squar what only the hand of God kin squar.”
“Well,” rejoined Trasker, meditatively chewing his quid, “maybe with four or five of us together we kin help the hand of God jest a leetle bit. That’s the leadin’ I git, anyways, for this evenin’.”
“Well, here’s our fellers comin’,” he went on, turning in his saddle. “Even a few is better’n none.”
They were joined now by three other riders, Chan Bullock and two younger men, one scarce more than a boy, the beard not yet sprouted on his face. They did not make even a salutation as they drew up alongside the two horsemen who had tarried at the rendezvous.
They turned up the hillside, once more resuming the winding path along the crooked divide which separated the two forks of the main stream which bored deep into the Cumberlands thereabouts. They all knew well enough the entry point for the head of Semmes’ Cove, and here in due time they halted to hold counsel.
“Sever’l been here,” said David Joslin, pointing out the horse tracks which led down into the thickets of the unbroken gulch before them. Without any comment they all dismounted and advanced, leading their horses, Joslin ahead. They walked in this way for perhaps a quarter of an hour. Then Joslin, without a word, turned and tied his own horse to a tree, the others following his example.
There had been an illicit stillhouse in this wild ravine how long none might tell—in fact, many stillhouses had been there sporadically and spasmodically conducted as the fancy of this man or that might determine, for the region was wild and remote, and never visited by any of the outside world. These visitors all knew well enough where the present stillhouse was hidden—in a thicket of laurel just at the edge of a rock escarpment which jutted out upon the farther side. They followed on now steadily, alertly, until at length Joslin raised a hand.