Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 68: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ON THE TRAIL Zach did not come quite as close as we expected, but halting just beyond the “dead line” I had fixed in my mind, and resting the stocks of the two rifles on the ground, with a huge hand grasping each, he fixed those penetrat- ing eyes upon us. The twitching of the beard, and a repetition of the peculiar chuckle, left no doubt that he was exulting over our discomfiture. We did not speak. I felt Dick move as 1f about to leap up and bound at his throat. . “Not yet!’ I interposed, touching his arm. “ Wal, if you ain't the two infarnalist fools in old Kentuck!” were the as- tounding words of the mountaineer ; “why didn’t you keep off the trail, being as you hadn’t any weppons? Didn't you know we'd be sartin to find you? Now, creep further back where nobody can’t see you, for Bill and Jim ain’t fur off, and they mustn’t know I’m playing the fool, too. “ Keep hid till dark, and then stick to the trail and travel like a steam in- gine, and keep going till you’re seven- teen thousand miles from Kentucky, and don’t never set foot in these parts agin ! . “And being as you hain’t got any shooting irons, you may as well take Vic Hawkins’ Winchester with you; he was another fool ; you don’t need the belt, for the magazine is chock full of cartridges.” CHAPTER XVII. CONTAINS THE REJECTION OF AN OFFER THAT WAS NEVER MADE. As Zach Peters finished his extraor- dinary declaration, he stepped forward and handed me the Winchester that had once belonged to Victor Hawkins. Amazed beyond description, I rose to my feet and took the weapon. *“* Zach, I don’t know how ” “Then don’t try,” he interrupted ; OF A MYSTERY. 59 “take care of that chap, for if he warnt as crazy as a bedbug, I’d never let him get out of these parts.” Dick did not speak, but thought best to assume the wildest expression he could. Without another word, the mountaineer tramped back to the trail and quickly passed from sight, taking the course toward Rattlesnake Ridge. “Which brings up the question again,” I said, as we sought more se- cluded quarters, “ whether Zach was not my friend on the eve of giving me the witch’s parole. I cannot help be- lieving after this that he was.” “ How could he have saved you?” “T cannot tell.” “Nor can any one else, and he wouldn’t have saved you; one reason was because he hadn’t the chance, which he had just now.” “At any rate, he believes in the role you have been playing.” “And so did you, until I enlightened you.” “You had been practising so long that it ought to have become realistic.” Thus we sat, talking in low tones and occasionally listening until the twi- light deepened into darkness. Once we heard the rapid tramp of some per- son passing along the trail, but did not peep out, being content to leave him alone, so long as he did not molest us. The night like the preceding one was moonless and starless. I feared that my companion was suffering from re- action, but he would not confess it and sturdily held to the pace. Since he had no knowledge of the section, and I re- tained the Winchester, it devolved upon me to act as guide. The darkness was profound, and de- spite the distinctness of the path, we had much difficulty in keeping toit. I stumbled over roots and stones, nearly broke a leg in one of the unseen hol- lows, banged into the tree trunks and once was almost lifted off my feet by a projecting limb which caught me under the chin. I repeatedly strayed from. t CON he trail GINGOIGHGe