“No, sir, I hain’t saw him,” answered one. The other shook his head. Then they rode on down the mountain.
A little farther on Captain Moseley met four men. These were walking, but each was armed—three with rifles, and one with a shot-gun. They had not seen Spurlock. At intervals he met more than a dozen—some riding and some walking, but all armed. At last he met two that presented something of a contrast to the others. They were armed, it is true; but they were laughing and singing as they went along the road, and while they had not seen Spurlock with their own eyes, as they said, they knew he must be farther up the mountain, for they had heard of him as they came along.
Riding and winding around upward, Captain Moseley presently saw a queer-looking little chap coming towards him. The little man had a gray beard, and as he walked he had a movement like a camel. Like a camel, too, he had a great hump on his back. His legs were as long as any man’s, but his whole body seemed to be contracted in his hump. He was very spry, too, moving along as active as a boy, and there was an elfish expression on his face such as one sees in old picture-books—a cunning, leering expression, which yet had for its basis the element of humor. The little man carried a rifle longer than himself, which he flourished about with surprising ease and dexterity—practicing apparently some new and peculiar manual.
“Have you seen Israel Spurlock?” inquired Captain Moseley, reining in his horse.
“Yes! Oh, yes! Goodness gracious, yes!” replied the little man, grinning good-naturedly.
“Where is he now?” asked the captain.
“All about. Yes! All around! Gracious, yes!” responded the little man, with a sweeping gesture that took in the whole mountain. Then he seemed to be searching eagerly in the road for something. Suddenly pausing, he exclaimed: “Here’s his track right now! Oh, yes! Right fresh, too! Goodness, yes!”
“Where are you going?” Moseley asked, smiling at the antics of the little man, their nimbleness being out of all proportion to his deformity.
For answer the little man whirled his rifle over his hump and under his arm, and caught it as it went flying into the air. Then he held it at a “ready,” imitating the noise of the lock with his mouth, took aim and made believe to fire, all with indescribable swiftness and precision. Captain Moseley rode on his way laughing; but, laugh as he would, he could not put out of his mind the queer impression the little man had made on him, nor could he rid himself of a feeling of uneasiness. Taking little notice of the landmarks that ordinarily attract the notice of the traveler in a strange country, he suddenly found himself riding along a level stretch of tableland. The transformation was complete. The country roads seemed to cross and recross here, coming and going in every direction. He rode by a little house that stood alone in the level wood, and he rightly judged it to be a church. He drew rein and looked around him. Everything was unfamiliar. In the direction from which he supposed he had come, a precipice rose sheer from the tableland more than three hundred feet. At that moment he heard a shout, and looking up he beheld the hunchback flourishing his long rifle and cutting his queer capers.