The next moment found them silently sliding down the mountain. Now pausing, holding their breath to listen, they caught the roar of the hounds, the crash of the men making their way through the brush. Now they came to a dense thicket of briars that tore at their clothes. Luckily they were clad in suits of stout khaki. Now they plunged down a deep ravine that threatened to be their undoing. At last they were up the other side and nearing the cabin.
"Have to work fast!" panted Patience. "Find-find her! Pick her up. Don"t wake her! Don"t let her cry! Then go down the mountain-fast-fast as we can!"
Then they caught sight of the dark bulk of the cabin ahead of them. A faint light shone in the open doorway.
"A-a light-" faltered Marion, drawing her companion back. "Maybe a man has been left behind."
"Just the fire on the hearth, I guess. Anyway, we have to risk it.
C"mon."
Again they crept forward. Now they were a hundred yards away, now fifty, now twenty-five, and now, with hearts beating wildly, they were skirting the cabin.
Dropping to the ground, Patience crept to the doorway. One glance within and she was up on hands and knees, creeping rapidly forward.
One moment of tense silence and she appeared at the door. In her arms was a large bundle.
"Got-got her," she breathed. "Now go! Go fast! C"mon."
Once more they crept forward through the dark. A moment pa.s.sed, another, and yet another. A hundred yards below the cabin they were making rapid progress in spite of fallen logs, brush and the dark, when Patience suddenly stopped and gripped Marion"s arm.
"Listen!" she breathed.
"Wha-what is it?"
"The hounds! They"re baying!"
"They"ve been baying for a long time."
"It-it"s different now. They"ve got our scent. They"re on our trail.
C"mon! We"ve got to go fast!"
"Where to?"
"I don"t know, but come on!"
What was happening during all this time at the head of Laurel Branch beyond the natural gateway? Had old Job and his followers discovered that little Hallie had been stolen? And were they hot on the trail of the kidnappers? Would they arrive in time to save the little captive and her brave deliverers?
They had indeed discovered their loss and were mourning it bitterly. As old Job sat in the chimney corner reading his well worn Bible, from time to time a tear fell upon the faded pages. But the search had not begun; might not begin for several days. Such are the slow and silent ways of mountain folks. Besides, no clew had been left for them to follow. The kidnappers had entered the valley on foot. Fortune had favored them. It was during the excitement over the narrowly averted raid by Ransom Turner"s men that they had slipped into the cabin and had carried away the sleeping child.
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.
Marion did listen, and what she heard caused her to shrink back in fear.
Above the baying of the hounds and the shouts of men who had doubtless discovered that Hallie was gone, came the sound of water as it rushed over the cliff to dash upon the rocks far below. So near did it seem that Marion shrank back in fear lest she be washed over the precipice.
"Blocked!" she whispered.
"Here," said Patience, "you take Hallie. Give me the rifle. Now come on.
It may not be too late." She went scrambling up the bank of the ravine.
Twice she slipped and seemed about to fall back, but each time grasped the friendly branch of some shrub for support. Many times she held out a helping hand to the other less experienced climber.
At last with a deep breath, Patience leaped upon the crest of the ridge.
"Listen!" she whispered. "The hounds! They"ve lost the scent. The water did that. There"s a chance yet. C"mon!"
So weary were her limbs, so spent her strength, that Marion felt she would rather lie down and die than to go on, but the thought of the innocent child she protected gave her new strength. So down the other side of the ridge they dashed.
"Here"s hoping for better luck this time," sighed Patience as she parted the bushes that lined the next ravine. Hardly had she thrust her right foot forward than she slipped, then started gliding downward. Only a fortunate grab at an overhanging bough saved her from a fall.
"What is it?" asked Marion.
"It"s a skidway for logs," whispered Patience, struggling to regain her footing. "It"s our chance. We"ll have to be careful, awful careful, but it will take us to the river. Mebby down there in the bottoms there"s some one who"ll help us."
With a few well chosen words she explained to her companion that when the white wood timber had been cut down from the mountains some years previous the woodsmen had felled trees into the ravine and having trimmed the branches from them had formed of them a steep chute down which thousands of logs had been sent gliding and booming to the river.
"It"s slippery," the mountain girl warned, "but if we are careful we can make it. Hold Hallie with one hand, hug the bank and cling to branches with the other. I"ll go before you. If you slip I"ll try to stop you."
Then in silence, foot by foot, yard by yard, rod by rod, they made their way down the treacherous pathway. Now they came upon a moss-grown portion that was safe as a sidewalk, and now there lay before them the shining whiteness of logs over which water had run until they were smooth as polished mahogany. Gliding, climbing, faltering, they made their way downward.
"Listen!" whispered Patience at last. "The hounds! They"re on our trail again."
Then sudden disaster from a new field threatened. At a slight bend in the ravine they came upon a log chute. A great quant.i.ty of debris-twigs, rotten limbs, leaves and dead gra.s.s had collected in the chute and the whole lay directly in the path. As they climbed confidently upon it the whole ma.s.s broke away and the next moment, like children on a pillow in a play chute, they were gliding downward.
Faster, faster, with fear tugging at their hearts, they flew downward.
With no power to help themselves, dumb with apprehension they sat there, sensing brush and trees rushing past them, feeling the sharp cut of leaves on their cheeks until Marion found her tongue to scream: