The trail was narrow and winding, and frequently the riders were forced to stoop low down in their saddles, to avoid the pendent boughs, but to offset this, they had the advantage of knowing the route thoroughly, from so often traversing it. Tobe Castor led the way with long, swinging strides, that forced the horses to their best walking, to avoid being distanced.
There was urgent need of haste, as they understood matters to be, for Fred might return to the deserted house, before they would have time to gain Stevens', if any delay occurred. And unsuspecting the threatening peril—as they believed—he might run into an ambush and be either killed or captured by the red-skins.
"We've gone fur a plenty," said Tobe, when nearly a half-mile had been traversed. "We must strike fer the other shanty now, or we mought miss Fred. Take keer fer your heads, now, as thar hain't any trail the way we must go."
"Ain't you afraid of losing the way, Tobe? It's so dark," muttered Wilson.
"Nary time I ain't. Lose nothin'! Me? Git out! Wasn't I raised in the woods? Couldn't I smell my way, even ef I was blinded? In course I kin. Don't be skeered 'bout thet, Ned. I'll take you as straight thar as a drunken Injun's trail—fer you know we've got to go mighty crooked through the dark, on this bresh. Now keep cluss together and don't make no n'ise. Don't holler out, even ef the limbs saws your heads off. 'Tain't nothin'—a'ter you git used to it."
The guide hurried abruptly to his left, and strode rapidly along, holding onto the bridle of the horse ridden by Mrs. Wilson. After her came Annie, with Wilson bringing up the rear, leading the spare horse.
Owing to the darkness, considerable noise was unavoidably made, but as they soon gained a point at a fair distance from the trail Castor believed there was but little danger of being overheard. As a matter of course, he reasoned that such Indians—and he fell fully assured that there were more or less in the neighborhood, from the bold threats of Dusky Dick—as were lurking around, would naturally keep near the main trail, as the two families were all living within some miles of that point.
Thus he pressed on through the woods at a good pace, for now time was precious. A long road lay before them, and unless a certain distance could be gained before day-dawn, he believed their chances of ultimate escape would be faint indeed.
The riders found that his warning was well founded, for more than once they were almost brushed from their saddles, by the low-hanging boughs, and only by lying almost flat along their horses' necks, could they proceed with any degree of safety. Then their animals were mainly left to their own guidance, but naturally followed close in the footsteps of the one led by Castor.
For several miles the fugitives proceeded in this manner, which was inexpressibly wearisome, and more than once had Wilson urged Castor to seek the trail leading direct to the cabin of Wesley Stevens. But the guide refused, as it would be incurring foolish risk. The unbroken woods were far safer in his estimation.