“That’s it,” I said. “Thank you.”
“I thought you held that lot were only food for the triangles,” he muttered. “Well, live and learn, and the last knows most! Now, forward it is, sir, and within five miles I’ll have you under cover. All the same there’s a plaguy bottom to cross that will give us trouble, or I am no prophet!”
I was soon to learn what he meant. For a certain distance, riding where it was level through open park-like land, that closed here and there into forest, the going was good and the pain was bearable, though the thought that at any moment the horse might stumble chilled me with apprehension. But after a while we sank into a shallow valley, where the air was darkened by cypress trees and poisoned by their yew-like odor. And presently, threading the swamp that filled the bottom, there appeared a rivulet. It crossed our path, and my heart sank into my boots.
“Stay here,” the man said shortly; and he left me and rode up and down, hunting for a crossing, while I followed him with scared eyes. At length he found what he wanted and he signed to me to join him. “Give me your rein,” he said, “and hold on with all the strength you have! It’s neck or nothing!”
We did it. But the muscles of the crushed shoulder and, in a less degree, the broken arm gave me exquisite pain, and I had to pause awhile on the other side of the water, crouching on the neck of my horse. When I had recovered, we went on and climbed out of the bottom and in another half mile as the light began to fail, we struck into a rough road.
We rode along it side by side, and he looked me over. “Major, ain’t you?” he said by and by.
I admitted it.
“Only came in yesterday, did you?”
“That’s so,” I said. “How did you know?”
“Ah!” he said. “That’s telling. But you may take it from me, there’s little we don’t know. Ever been taken before, Major?”