All the rest of the day I loafed about, chatting with dozens of people, among the others with Morton himself. That individual professed great zeal for law and order, and told of the wonderful things he, as sheriff, intended to accomplish. Among the lot I contrived to include the six men whose names were on my paper, and to deliver my message. I explained as far as I knew, and got from each a definite and emphatic promise to be present.
“It’s time this thing was brought to a head,” said one man. “If Danny Randall is taking hold of it, I enlist.”
I returned to report these facts, received an indifferent nod, and, under further instruction, went quietly to camp to await the agreed hour.
We started up the trail about eight o’clock. Yank insisted that he was going, if he had to roll all the way; but after a little we simultaneously remembered that the 353 Moreñas had owned horses. One of these I caught, and on it Yank rode to the place of rendezvous.
The night was very black. After we had entered the woods its darkness seemed at first to hang in front of my eyes like a filmy curtain, so that I fairly groped, as one would when blindfolded. In the open a faint starlight helped us, but after we had entered the pines we had fairly to proceed by instinct. I remember feeling a shock of surprise once, when we skirted the river, at seeing plainly the whiteness of the rapids, as though the water were giving off a light of its own. Straight overhead were scattered patches of stars with misty abysses of blackness between them. Only after an interval did I appreciate that these apparent abysses were in reality the tops of trees!
We felt our way slowly, the soft muzzle of the horse at my shoulder. Gradually our pupils expanded to the utmost, so that we caught ghostly intimations of gray rocks, of dust patches, or seized the loom of a tree or the opening of a forest aisle. Luckily the trail was well marked. We had only to stick to it.
At the Flat Rock we were halted by a low-voiced command. I gave the password, as instructed by Danny Randall. This experience was once repeated, a little farther on. Then, as we neared the upper horse flat, we were stopped by a man who flashed a dark lantern in our faces, scrutinized us for a moment, shut off his light, and told us to go forward.
We found a small fire behind a screen of firs, and around or near it the figures of a dozen men. They stood silent and scattered a little apart from the firelight. We could 354 not make out their features. From time to time other men came in, singly or in couples, until probably twenty-five were gathered. Then ensued a few moments of waiting. A sudden stir proclaimed fresh arrivals, and four newcomers strode briskly to the fire. As the light fell on them I recognized Randall and the three express riders.
Danny kicked together the fire until it flared.
“Somebody put some more wood on this,” he said in his natural voice. “We’ve got to see each other.”