Corsoni and Alberta followed.
The pass became more and more steep, winding, difficult and dangerous. The rocks were more broken, the torrents more swollen, the copsewood more tangled and treacherous.
The precipice now rose five hundred feet on their right hand, and fell fifteen hundred on their left. The false step which might precipitate horses and riders to death seemed imminent.
Alberta’s spirits actually rose with the perils and perplexities of the ascent, for these seemed absolutely to insure the fugitives against pursuit.
“I do not think the Yankee heroes will care to track us up this path,” said Alberta, exultingly.
“No, I do not think they will. Besides, one single resolute and well armed man, stationed at the head of this pass, could keep it against an advancing army,” replied the Free Sword.
An hour more of toilsome and terrible climbing brought them to the top of the mountain.
The full moon was now at the zenith, and shone brightly down upon a scene which was as great a curiosity in its way as the Natural Bridge itself. It seemed a fort of Nature’s own forming. Saucer-shaped was the top of the mountain, and surrounded by a natural breastwork of earth and rocks, in the clefts of which grew sturdy evergreens. Within this naturally enclosed space, which was about a mile in circumference, was a picturesque spectacle—groups of men, droves of horses, and many campfires. But here seemed no sign of shelter for man or beast.
Colonel Goldsborough had arrived just before Corsoni and Alberta. He had unbound his captive, who was seated in sulky silence on the ground, and he now turned to receive the Free Sword.
“Welcome to the Devil’s Retreat, for such is the delectable name by which this natural fortification goes. See, your men are here before you, and they are already preparing for the comfort of Madam,” he said.