“Neil can guide as well as I can,” Louis began.
“I can’t and I won’t,” retorted the Scotch boy stubbornly. “You have your mother and sisters to take care of, and you are going on ahead.”
“One of you boys can take my horse,” Mr. Perier proposed. “I am the least experienced and the least useful of all.” He started to dismount.
“No, no,” cried Louis. “You will be too slow with your crippled foot. You will hold the others back. You must ride.”
“There are the children to think of,” Walter added earnestly. “You must go with them. Neil and Raoul and I can go much faster on foot than you could.”
“Stop talking and get away,” exclaimed Raoul impatiently. “Marie, come off that horse.”
For once in her life Marie obeyed her next older brother. She took his hand and slipped quickly to the ground. Raoul helped her up in front of Elise. Louis, without further argument, mounted and took the lead. He knew as well as anyone that they had already wasted too much time in argument.
As Raoul drew back from helping Marie up, his mother bent down from her horse to throw her left arm about his neck. “God guard you, my son,” she said softly.
“And you,” muttered Raoul huskily.
At first the lads on foot kept almost at the heels of the ponies. The prairie grass grew high and rank, and there was no beaten path. The animals could not go fast, and all three boys were good runners. But running through tall grass is not like running on an open road or even on a well-trodden cart track. They soon tired, and had to slow their pace and fall behind. The ponies were double burdened and far from fresh, but they were tough, wiry beasts, capable of extraordinary endurance. When they struck firmer ground beyond the marsh, they made better speed. The rear guard fell still farther behind. They tried to keep in the track made by the horses, but it was not always easy to do so, especially when flying clouds covered the moon and left them in darkness.