Then raising his voice:
“Hol’ on dar, boys! ’Tain’t fair to run away from a feller in dis way, ’clar’ ’tain’t! Hol’ on; dar’s no sort o’ danger. What ye goin’ so fast for?
“Git up! G’long! Oh! o-o-h! Gorry, we shell be killed,” he spluttered, as an arrow flew past him. “Now, see here, ole hoss, you mus’ go faster, deed ye mus’! Don’no’ what ye mean by gwine so slow. Don’ ye know—
“I say dar, ye fellers is scart! Dar’s no sense in yer gwine so fast, fur dar ain’t a spec’ o’ danger, not a bit! Jes’ see how cool dis chile takes it! Don’ look well fur ye to go so fast, nohow. Hol’ on now! I tell ye dar’s no— Oh, de Lor’! G’long!”
The frightened darkey “ducked” his head, as an arrow struck the fore-shoulder of the mule, and was agreeably surprised to see that this time his “G’long” was heeded, for, the mule, feeling the arrow, kicked his heels in the air, and with a snort was off, with such an increase of speed, that in a moment he had overtaken the others, and thereafter, the only trouble his rider had, was to keep him from going too fast.
“Ye ain’t takin’ it so cool as ye was, be ye?” asked Wild Nat, as the negro shot past him.
“Ye’d better go faster,” answered Scip; “dey ain’t fur behind, an’ it’s much dang’rous to have ’em so clus. Will dey cotch us, t’ink?”
“Guess not,” replied the trapper. “In half an hour we’ll be on tew Deep Creek, an’ I guess we’ll fool ’em then. Ef we don’t,” he added, under his breath, “it’ll be apt tew go hard with us, for the buffler-hunt tired our hosses somewhat.”
Silence ensued between the trio, who anxiously watched the distance between themselves and pursuers, and were gratified to observe that it did not perceptibly lessen.
On they went at a steady gallop. Wild Nat had said that as long as it was possible to keep out of reach at that pace, it was best, as their animals would soon need their strength for the final stretch.