“Ah! you mean for us to make a circumbendibus over the ridge, and attack ’em from the back-side. Is that it, ’Lije?”
“That’s it,” laconically answered the old trapper.
“You must be mistaken about that, Orton,” put in Black Harris, supposed to be the sagest among “mountain men.”
“We might get over the ridge ’ithout bein’ noticed, I reck’n; but not with our animals. Neyther hoss nor mule can climb up yonder. And if we leave them behind, it’ll take longer than to wait for the night. Besides, we mightn’t find any track up among the rocks. They look, from here, as if they had been piled up by giants as had been playing jack-stones wi’ ’em.”
“So they do, Harry,” responded ’Lije, “so do they, But, for all that, there’s a coon kin find a path to crawl through among ’em, an’ that’s ’Lije Orton. I hain’t trapped all roun’ hyur ’ithout knowin’ the neer cuts; an’ there’s a way over that ridge as’ll fetch us strait custrut to the Injun campin’-groun’, an’ ’ithout their purseevin’ our approach in the clarest o’ sunlight. Beeside, it’ll bring us into sech a pursishun that we’ll hev the skunks ’ithin reech o’ our guns, afore they know anythin’ ’bout our bein’ near ’em. Beeside, too, it’ll save time. We kin get thur long afore dark, so as to have a good chance o’ lookin’ through the sights o’ our rifles.”
“Let us go that way,” simultaneously cried several voices, the most earnest among them being that of O’Neil.
No one dissenting, the mountain-path was determined upon.
Continuing along the plain for a half-mile farther, the trappers dismounted, cached their animals among the rocks, and commenced ascending the steep slope—’Lije Orton still acting as their guide.