For answer the mountain girl sprang out of the room and went racing down the stairs.
A lamp was lighted. Rough, serviceable garments of khaki were scrambled into, shoes were hurriedly laced. They were ready to go when Marion thought of food. They might be away for hours, perhaps days.
s.n.a.t.c.hing down a bag she raced to the kitchen, there to fill the bag with corn pone, cold sweet potatoes, crackers, cookies and cheese.
When she returned, to her astonishment she found Patience calmly ramming home a charge in the long-barreled squirrel rifle which had hung over the fireplace.
"Will-will it shoot?" she faltered.
"Awful straight."
"Can you shoot it?"
The mountain girl gave her a look of scorn. "In the mountains everyone shoots."
"Good! I"m glad!" There was warmth in the girl"s tone. There was comfort in knowing that though there was no man in their party, there was a rifle carried by a girl who knew well how to handle it.
A moment more and they were feeling the damp night air upon their cheeks.
It was a narrow trail they were following. Now and then as they hurried forward the dew drenched branch of dogwood or rhododendron slapped them full in the face. Here and there some wild creature, frightened from the trail, went bounding away into the bush.
It was spooky enough, this climbing higher and higher up the side of Little Black Mountain in the dead of night. Spooky and dangerous, too.
What if those men, catching the sound of their footsteps behind them, should draw aside from the trail and waylay them? Marion dared not dwell on this. One thing was uppermost in her mind-the saving of Little Hallie.
How was this to be done? She could not tell. The answer would be there when the time came. At all hazards the men must be followed.
So, drenched by dripping dew, torn at by out-reaching brambles, catching the faint tinge of waters in the gulch far below, they ascended higher and higher until at last they had reached the crest.
"See!" whispered Patience as they rested here. "There are Hallie"s footprints!"
It was true. Having dismounted, that they might rest their tired muscles, the men had lifted the child to the ground.
Marion found comfort in this. "They can"t be entirely bad," she told herself. "They think of the child"s comfort."
A moment"s rest, and they were away along the trail that followed the ridge for some distance.
They marched along in silence until they came to the spot where the trail left the ridge to plunge down the steep slope on the other side.
"Listen!" Patience whispered, suddenly gripping her companion"s arm.
As they listened, breathless, from somewhere far below there came the deep, drawn-out bay of a hound.
"See!" exclaimed the mountain girl, pointing to the ground. Where the trail left the ridge, a fresh track had joined that of the kidnappers. It was the trail of a man and two huge dogs.
"Hounds!" whispered Patience. "They have hounds. Against these we have no chance. They will smell us a long way off. They will come after us. I can shoot but one. The other-" she paused to shudder.
"And yet we must go on! Think of little Hallie!"
"Yes," said the brave mountain girl, "we must go on!" Turning, she led the way down the mountain.
CHAPTER XV BY THE AID OF A c.o.o.n
Climbing up the mountain side without making a sound had not been easy.
Going down it was doubly difficult. Now a rock, slipping from a ledge at the side of the trail, went crashing down through the sloping forest. Now a pebble, rolling beneath Marion"s foot, sent her with a thud to the ground. And now the dead branch of a tree, clung to for a second"s rest, gave way with a screaming snap that must have been heard a mile away.
A half mile down the trail they came upon a cabin. A mere shack built of logs with a low chimney, with one door and no windows, it could hardly be called a human habitation.
Yet there were people sleeping here, Marion did not doubt.
"Sha-shall we?" she whispered as she stood near the door.
""T"wouldn"t do narry bit o" good. No "count folks," whispered Patience.
They were about to pa.s.s on when the rattle of a chain caused Marion to start and shudder.
"c.o.o.n, pet c.o.o.n," whispered the mountain girl, pointing to a dark corner where a c.o.o.n, chained to a low shrub, was standing on his haunches and eyeing them curiously.
"That c.o.o.n," whispered Patience slowly, "might be some good to us."
Marion did not see how it possibly could, but she did not answer.
As they pa.s.sed on down the trail Patience paused often to study the hoof marks in the soft earth. Once, at the juncture of a small stream with the larger creek, she paused for some time, only to shake her head and murmur:
"No, they have gone on down."
At the next turn she paused again. This time she did not go on, but, pointing up a gra.s.s grown trail to the left, said.
"They"re gone up to yonder clearin". Camp there, I reckon. Wish we had that c.o.o.n."
"Why? What would we-"
But Patience was already too far up the new trail to catch Marion"s whispered question.
As they rounded a clump of pawpaws Patience whispered: "They"re camped up yonder. I saw the light of their fire."
"Good!" whispered Marion. "Perhaps we can turn the tables and steal her back."
"But the hounds!" said Patience.
"Oh yes, the hounds," Marion repeated wearily.
"That c.o.o.n, now," said Patience thoughtfully, "he might be a heap of help to us."
"How?" said Marion.
Patience did not reply. When she at last spoke, it was to suggest that they make their way up the far side of the slope that they might be sure the ones they followed were camping there. Wearily they followed the creek and at last began the ascent.