Fred's keen ear caught the sounds of approaching footsteps, and rapidly falling back, he drew his companions to one side on the narrow trace, where they crouched down amid the bushes. Fred knelt before them, his weapons ready for instant use, in case a collision was unavoidable.
The light pattering sound drew nearer, and then one form after another glided directly past the fugitives, who even held their breath, so imminent seemed the risk of discovery. Then the last link of the living chain passed by, and was lost to view amid the dense shadows.
Not until the last sound died utterly away, did Fred venture to move or speak. Then his voice was low, but full of uneasiness.
"It was Sloan Young's gang. I recognized him. They have gone to your home, and when they find their plans are discovered they will be after us, half-wild."
"Then let us hasten on at once," impatiently muttered Stevens. "We can reach your house by the time they get to ours. With such a start there is no danger of their overtaking us."
"Not so. You forget that Dusky Dick's gang is somewhere near here, and if we run across him, then we are lost indeed. A rifle-shot would call those devils back, and then we would be massacred in a moment—or else saved for the torture. No, we must use more caution now than ever. Will you be guided by me? I have had more experience in these matters than you have, or I should not ask such a thing," added Fred, modestly.
"Yes—we will do as you say. Only be quick!"
"Then we will go on as before. Only be as cautious in stepping as possible, and don't press too close upon me."
Fred reëntered the path and glided on in advance. He felt extreme anxiety as to the probable result of the venture, now that he knew foes were both before and behind.
He was also anxious regarding the result of John Stevens' errand. If he had been delayed, or had any thing happened to prevent his gaining the cabin, matters would be gloomy indeed.