At the farther side could be seen a corral containing such horses as the community owned; but what struck Little Snap the most forcibly was the number of dogs running about, yelping at each other and jumping to and fro in their wild freedom.
It was getting too dark to see anything with distinctness, even had the postboy time to watch the scene long. They had stopped on a knob of earth high enough to look quite over the level land making up the Acre, but as soon as they resumed their course, all this was lost to their sight.
"Our path passes jess to th' right o' th' village," whispered Ab Raggles, "an' we hev got to move moughty sly to slip by 'em. I don't s'pose yit'd be bes' fer 'em goslings o' Bird Burrnock to ketch eyes on me. Yit mought not be healthy fer somebuddy."
Little Snap had noticed that as they neared the settlement Raggles had begun to show uneasiness, which increased as they advanced. He no longer carried his firearm in the hollow of his arm, but held it low upon his other side, as if wishing to conceal it from the gaze of any chance person they might meet. He realized that he could depend very little upon the Raggles in case of an attack from his enemies.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps fell on their ears, when the older guide dropped to the ground as quickly as if he had been shot, his son imitating his example the next moment.
Little Snap reined in Jack in season to avoid having him step on the prostrate figure of Ab Raggles, while at the same time the form of a man burst through the bushes into plain sight.
"Hello!" exclaimed the stranger. "Who mought ye be who invades these peaceful regions?"
"A friend," replied the postboy; "belated in my journey over the mountains."
"Who in the name of darkness air ye who knows th' way?" and the speaker stepped nearer to get a better view of the boyish rider.
It was too dark for him to distinguish Little Snap's features. At any rate, he did not seem to recognize him.