The Indian had no other feeling than the pride of a brief leadership. The aboriginal in him was intensely stirred. Here he was in his native element. Here he could teach the great man who was, in his curiously warped mind, far above all others. Besides, was there not at the end to be a satisfaction of all the savage instincts in him? He knew the Bell River neches, whom he hated so cordially in common with all others of his race, were to be outwitted, defeated. And his share in that outwitting was to be a large one, and would only go to prove further what a contemptible thing the neche really was.
So he brought to his aid all those faculties which he owed to his forebears, and which had been practised in the purposes of his crooked youth. Nor had he the wit to understand that the "contemptible" Indian in him was serving him to the limit in this effort he was putting forth.
The tremendous climb terminated on the wooded crests of the walls of the great gorge. And the white men paused, thankful enough for the moment of relaxation, while Charley scouted for his bearings. But the pause was of the briefest. Charley was back almost before the tired muscles had relaxed. The briefest announcement in the scout's pigeon English and the journey was resumed.
"Charley's eye all clear. We go?"
The life-line was recoiled, and the scout wore it over one shoulder, and across his chest. He had secret hopes for that rope which he imparted to no one.
The way through the virgin forest was almost brief. In a half hour they stood clear of it with a dark stretch of open country stretching out before them. Nor was there the least hesitation. Charley picked out his way, as a cat will pass through the darkest apartment without colliding with the furnishings. He seemed to read through the darkness with a mental torch.
A mile of the way lay over a stretch of attenuated grass along a ridge that sloped away to the depths of a narrow valley, which converged upon the river some miles to the north. Then came a drop, a steady decline which brought them to a wider and shallower part of the valley they had been skirting. What obstacles might lie in that hollow the white men were powerless to estimate. They were entirely in the hands of the Indian, and were content that this was so.
None spoke, and the scout moved on with the swiftness of absolute certainty. Shadowy bluffs loomed up, were skirted, were left behind. Once or twice a grunted warning came from the leader as marshy ground squelched under the soft moccasins. But that was all. Charley's whole mind was set in deep concentration. Pitfalls, which might trap, were of small enough importance. The trail was all-absorbing.
A shallow lapping stream crossed their path. The banks were low and quaking. They plunged into the knee-deep water, and their feet sank into the bed of soft, reed-grown mud. They crossed the deep nearly waist high, and floundered out on to the far bank. Then came a further groping progress through a thicket of saplings and lesser growth. This passed, they emerged upon an upward slope and firm patchy grassland. It was at the summit of this that the Indian paused.
He stood staring out in a southwesterly direction. For a while he remained silent. Kars and Bill squeezed the water from their stout moleskin trousers.