On the rocky creek-bottom road the shoes of the kidnappers made no imprint. It was only after walking two miles that they mounted horses, concealed all this time in a paw-paw thicket, and rode away. No aid could be expected from old Job’s men.
CHAPTER XVI
A PERILOUS GLIDE
As she dashed after her companion, Marion felt a dizzy wave of faintness sweep over her. With her knees all but refusing to support her, she seemed in danger of plunging head foremost down the mountain side. By a supreme effort she regained control of herself and, still gripping the long squirrel rifle, followed on as best she could.
After stumbling through brush and over logs, with the baying of hounds growing louder in their ears, they came to the bed of a small ravine. There was water here and it offered better going. Besides, it might throw the hounds off the trail. So, sometimes to their ankles and sometimes to their knees in water, they plunged forward.
“Keep the rifle dry,” Patience panted back. “We may need it.”
“Would—would you shoot?” Marion asked.
“I’d shoot anything to save Hallie.”
The child, now half awake, was crying softly to herself.
Suddenly Patience came to a standstill.
“Listen!” she whispered.