Heavy with apprehension, rather than remorse for their crime, the six hunters ride on towards the clearing.
They avoid the travelled track, lest they may meet some one upon it, and approach through the thick timber.
Guiding their horses, so as to make the least noise, and keeping the hounds in check, they advance slowly and with caution.
Some of the less courageous are reluctant to proceed, fearing the spectacle that is before them.
Even the loud-talking Slaughter would gladly give up the newly-conceived design, but for the manifest danger of leaving it undone.
Near the edge of the opening, still screened from their view by the interposing trunks and cane-culms, they again halt, and hold council—this time speaking in whispers.
“We should not all go forward,” suggests the son of the tavern-keeper. “Better only one or two at first, to see how the land lies.”
“That would be better,” chimes in Spence.
“Who’ll go, then?”
Buck and Brandon are pointed out by the eyes of the others resting upon them. These two have been leaders throughout the whole affair. Without showing poltroon, they cannot hang back now.