"I kin try," answered Pepperill, dismally. "But it's a heap harder to find the way in the night so; durned if 'tain't!"
"None o' that, now, Dan," said Ropes, "or you'll git sunthin' to put sperrit inter ye!"
Dan made no reply, but shivered. The mountain air was chill, the prospect dreary. Close by, the woods, blackened by the recent fire, lay shadowy and spectral in the moon. Far above, the dim summits towards which their course lay whitened silently. There was no noise but the low murmur of these men, bent on bloody purposes. No wonder Dan's teeth chattered.
As for Carl, he killed a mosquito on his cheek, and smiled triumphantly.
"You got a shlap, you warmint!" he said, as if he had no other care on his mind than the insect's slaughter.
"Who told you to speak?" said Lysander sharply.
"Vas that shpeaking?" Carl scratched his cheek complacently. "I vas only making a little obserwation to the mosquito."
"Well, keep your observations to yourself!"
"That is vat I vill try to do."
The order to march was given. Lysander proceeded a few paces in advance, accompanied by Ropes and the two guides. The troops followed in silence, with dull, irregular tramp, filing through obscure hollows, over barren ridges crowned by a few thistles and mulleins, and by the edges of thickets which the fires had not reached. At length they came to a tract of the burned woods. The word "halt!" was whispered. The sound of tramping feet was suddenly hushed, and the slender column of troops, winding like a dark serpent up the side of the mountain, became motionless.