"So he might; but there's no telling whom we may meet, and I won't lose him now. But if you object, he can ride with me."
"I didn't think o' that, square. Jest you hyste him up arter I mount."
This was speedily done, and Sprowl secured to the body of his captor, thus effectually preventing all hopes of an escape. Then leaving the premises they entered the road, proceeding at a moderate pace, as they were not desirous of arousing any of the neighbors who might chance to be at home.
For a couple of hours they rode on without halting, when they both drew rein simultaneously, bending forward in the saddles, and listening eagerly. It was a sharp, clear report, followed by what appeared an irregular volley of small-arms, resounding all about them as if an entire army was engaged in battle.
But the two men were far too well versed in the peculiarities of that portion of the country not to know that it was but the multiplied reverberations of the one first shot.
"Listen!" exclaimed Poynter, guardedly, "don't you hear the click of shoes upon the stones?"
"Y'ur right, by the 'tarnal! It's the vigilantys, I reckon. Better kiver."
"To the left," muttered Poynter, leading the way. "Hold the reins while I keep the horses from neighing. And mark you, Sprowl, those are your friends, but if you utter so much as a whisper, by the God above me, I will shoot you like a dog! You know I keep my word. They may hunt us, but it would be too late to do you any good!" hissed the young man as he passed by the prisoner.
They were scarcely a dozen feet from the road, upon a little lower ground, from whence they could have a clear view of anybody passing by. There was no moon, and the dense growth of underbrush close behind them, added to the dark color of their horses, rendered discovery very improbable, if not impossible.
Poynter stood by the animals' heads, one hand upon the muzzle of each, to check any inclination they might feel for whickering during the passage of the horsemen. They had not long to wait.