“Yonder; there is a deer trail leading down.”
“And you fear Cassion may follow?”
“He will likely become suspicious if I am long absent, and either seek me himself, or send one of his 147 men. This is the first moment of freedom I have experienced since we left Quebec. I hardly know how to behave myself.”
“And we must guard it from being the last,” he exclaimed, a note of determination, and leadership in his voice. “There are questions I must ask, so that we may work together in harmony, but Cassion can never be allowed to suspect that we have communication. Let us go forward to the end of the trail where you came up; from there we can keep watch below.”
He still grasped my hand, and I had no thought of withdrawing it. To me he was a friend, loyal, trustworthy, the one alone to whom I could confide. Together we clambered over the rough rocks to where the narrow cleft led downward.
CHAPTER XII
ON THE SUMMIT OF THE BLUFF
Securely screened from observation by the low growing bushes clinging to the edge of the bluff, and yet with a clear view of the cleft in the rocks half way to the river, De Artigny found me a seat on a hummock of grass, but remained standing himself. The sun was sinking low, warning us that our time was short, for with the first coming of twilight I would certainly be sought, if I failed to return to the lower camp.