“Don’t—don’t, whatever you do,” I whispered back in alarm, for I had not the slightest faith in my companion’s imitation, and felt certain that we should be found out.
The men too seemed to be coming on, but in a few minutes the rustling and breaking of wood ceased, and we crept on again for a little way; and then, with the light of the fire reduced to a faint glow, we stood upright and began to ascend the little valley at a fairly rapid rate for the darkness.
“What an escape!” I said, breathing more freely now.
“That’s what I ought to say,” grumbled Esau. “That bullet came close by me.”
“And by me too,” I replied. “I felt a twig that it cut off fall upon me. But never mind as we were not hit.”
“But I do mind,” grumbled Esau. “I didn’t come out here to be shot at.”
“Don’t talk,” I said. “Perhaps we shall come upon another camp before long.”
I proved to be right, for at the end of an hour we came upon a rough tent, so dimly seen that we should have passed it where it stood, so much canvas thrown over a ridge pole, if we had not been warned by a low snoring sound.
We crept down to the waterside, and slowly edged our way on; but when we were some fifty yards farther we stopped to consider our position.
“S’pose that’s old Gunson,” said Esau, “and we’re going away from him now?”