But their journey was not to be completed without interruption, and one soon came that threatened serious consequences. It occurred in this manner.
As they were proceeding at a fair gait, a bright flash spouted forth from one side of the little party, at only a few yards' distance, and mingled with sharp report, came the spiteful hum of a ragged bullet as it hurtled close to the head of Mrs. Wilson. Then a loud, fierce yell broke upon their hearing.
The horses were badly frightened by these sudden and unexpected sounds, and broke loose from all control, wildly plunging on through the woods. And the voice of Castor was heard, crying:
"Keep together, an' let the animiles went! Foller me!"
Fleet-footed as a deer, he sprung forward and clutched the bridle-rein that had been wrenched from his grasp; then ran beside the horse, now leading the way. Occasionally he would raise his voice—knowing that, if they were indeed followed, this could not add to their peril, as the loud crashing made by the affrighted animals could be heard further than his cries—and it was essential that none of the party should become separated from the others.
For nearly a mile this headlong race was maintained, and then Castor suddenly checked the horse he was guiding. He could hear nothing of any pursuer, and had resolved that now, if ever, was the time to throw any such off the scent.
"Is it all right, Ed?" he anxiously cried, approaching Wilson.
"Yes—I believe so. Is Mary hurt?"
"No—I am safe. But Annie—where is she?" replied Mrs. Wilson, breathlessly.
"Here—I caught her horse as it ran past. Are you hurt, Annie?"