Zeb moves off first, leading the captive alongside of him. The latter makes no resistance; but rather seems satisfied at being conducted in company.
Calhoun rides slowly—a close observer might say reluctantly in the rear.
At a point where the path angles abruptly round a clump of trees, he reins up, and appears to consider whether he should go on, or gallop back.
His countenance betrays terrible agitation. Zeb Stump, admonished by the interrupted footfall, becomes aware that his travelling companion has stopped.
He pulls up his mare; and facing round, regards the loiterer with a look of interrogation.
He observes the agitated air, and perfectly comprehends its cause.
Without saying a word, he lowers his long rifle from its rest upon his left shoulder; lays it across the hollow of his arm, ready at an instant’s notice to be carried to his cheek. In this attitude he sits eyeing the ex-captain of cavalry. There is no remark made. None is needed. Zeb’s gesture is sufficient. It plainly says:—“Go back if ye dare!”
The latter, without appearing to notice it, takes the hint; and moves silently on.
But no longer is he permitted to ride in the rear. Without saying it, the old hunter has grown suspicious, and makes an excuse for keeping behind—with which his compagnon du voyage is compelled to put up.
The cavalcade advances slowly through the chapparal.