As to Bates, some time in the course of the journey he was to be allowed accidentally to escape. Besides a natural inclination to be easy on our ex-schoolfellow,—an inclination to which Jack readily deferred,—we felt sure that he had been led into this business more or less against his will; we knew that he had expressed his intention to preserve our lives, and we felt grateful to him accordingly; moreover we were pretty sure that when free to go where he would, he would fly with all speed to the other side of the Atlantic. And that, we were agreed, was the very best thing he could do. We did not wish to ruin his life by consigning him to jail for an unknown number of years; and we reasoned that if anything would deter him from taking such risks again, it would be the scare he would get when he found himself, as he would suppose, about to be turned over to the tender mercies of the Territorial authorities—a scare which, as his pale countenance testified, was already beginning to press upon him pretty heavily.
As to the question whether or not we should disclose to Bates the fact that we were aware of his identity, we decided in the negative, thinking that it would be an act of charity to allow him to escape unrecognised, as he would believe; for he still retained his mask, and unless he should voluntarily discard it, we should have no difficulty in keeping up our pretence of ignorance.
We decided also that Jack should do all the ordering, and that we two should hold as little communication as possible with the prisoners.
The matter being settled we at once set about our preparations for departure. While Percy, with Ulysses’ assistance, remained as guard, Jack galloped off on Toby to bring up the mules and horses,—Squeaky’s horse had returned of its own accord,—and I put together the packs, now very light, for our provisions were almost entirely expended.
The mules being packed and the horses saddled, Bates’s bonds were cut, and he was ordered to mount, I being set over him as guard. Next, Squeaky’s horse was brought up, but before its owner was allowed to mount, the bridle was pulled over the horse’s head and attached by a short length of rope to the pack-saddle of the more sober of our two mules—old Joe. Then, while Jack with cocked rifle stood over him, Squeaky’s bonds were cut by Percy, and he was told to get into the saddle. I was half afraid he would make a dash for liberty, but having glanced from Jack to Percy, and from Percy back to Jack, and judging from their attitude of determination that it would be well to obey, persuaded too by the gleam of teeth displayed by the ready Ulysses, he obeyed accordingly, growling to himself like a discontented bear.
We three having mounted, the procession started; Bates first, then I, riding Toby in order that the mules might follow with docility, then Calliope, who always took precedence of Joe, then Joe himself, towing Squeaky’s horse, and last of all, Jack and Percy, side by side.
At the bars Bates was ordered to dismount and let them down, while Percy, when we had passed through, stopped to put them up again. Soon we entered the tunnel. As it began to get dark Jack produced from his pocket half-a-dozen slivers of pitch-pine, and putting a match to them, held them aloft for a torch. The flare showed up the walls and the arched roof for a long distance before and behind, and if the prisoners had entertained hopes of slipping away in the darkness they were disappointed.
By midday we reached our old camping-ground, for we had descended much more quickly than we had gone up the range, but without stopping there we went on until six o’clock, when Jack gave the order to camp. Our prisoners were fed and sent to bed, tightly rolled up in their blankets, after the fashion that Squeaky had adopted with us, and one or other of our party stood guard over them all night, Ulysses acting as an efficient assistant to each of us. In the same order we set out again next day, and jogged along till near noon, by which time we judged we must be coming soon within sight of our destination.
All this time Bates had made no sign of wishing to escape, and I was wondering how we were to get rid of him, when Percy came riding along the line, and joining me, began a whispered discussion of that very subject. He did not advance very far, however, for ere he had finished his first remark an event occurred which rendered any further discussion unnecessary.
Just ahead of us, beside the trail we were following, stood a big old pine-tree, the upper half of which was dead. As we passed this tree there came one of those sudden, whirling wind-storms so common in the mountain-country; the top of the tree was twisted off and cast upon the ground close to old Joe’s quarters. The startled mule sprang forward, Squeaky’s horse sprang backward, and the result was, naturally, that the head-stall of the bridle broke. At the same moment we were assailed by a vicious, spiteful blast of sand and small pebbles, which stung our faces so that everyone instinctively lowered his head and threw up one arm as a protection. The squall lasted only a quarter of a minute, but in that quarter-minute Bates and Squeaky seized the opportunity they had doubtless been waiting for and went off down-wind with the dust-cloud. When we looked up again they were just disappearing into the woods behind us, lying flat upon their horses’ backs to avoid the bullets they evidently expected to be sent after them.