“No, no; that would embarrass you, without helping me. Go on before, and I will follow.”
Lyon Berners plunged into the stream. Sybil drew up her long skirts and dashed in after him. And they were both soon splashing through the Black River, blacker now than ever with the double darkness of night and mist. A few minutes of brave effort on the part of horses and riders brought them all in safety to the opposite bank, up which they successfully struggled, and found themselves upon firm ground.
“The worst part of the journey is over, dear Sybil. Now I will ride in advance and find the pass, and do you keep close behind me,” said Lyon Berners, riding slowly along the foot of the mountain until he came to a dark opening, which he entered, calling Sybil to follow him.
It was one of those fearful passes so frequently to be found in the Allegheny Mountains, and which I have described so often that I may be excused from describing this. They went in, cautiously picking their way through this deeper darkness, and trusting much to the instinct of their mountain-trained steeds to take them safely through. An hour’s slow, careful, breathless riding brought them out upon the other side of the mountain.
As they emerged from the dark labyrinth, Lyon Berners pulled up his horse to breathe, and to look about him. Sybil followed his example.
Day was now dawning over the broken and precipitous country.
“Where is that chapel of which you speak? I have heard of it all my life, but I have never seen it; and beyond the fact that it is on this side of the mountain, and not far from the Black Torrent, I know nothing about it,” said Sybil.
“It is near the Black Torrent; almost under the bed of the cascade, in fact. And we shall have to turn our horses’ heads up stream again to reach it,” answered Lyon Berners.
“You know exactly where it is; you have been there, perhaps?” inquired Sybil.
“I have seen it but once in my life. But I can easily find it. It is not a frequented place of resort, dear Sybil. But that makes it all the safer as a place of concealment for you,” said Lyon Berners, as he started his horse and rode on.