Almost at the same instant the double-mounted steeds are turning off the
main road, Woodley and those with him enter upon it; only at a point
further away from the ford.
Delayed, first in considering what should be done with Harkness, and
afterwards by the necessity of going slowly, as well as noiselessly
along the narrow trace, they have arrived upon the road's edge just in
time to be too late.
As yet they are not aware of this, though Woodley has his apprehensions;
these becoming convictions, after he has stood for a time listening, and
hears no sound, save that of the water, which comes in hoarse hiss
between the trees, almost deafening the ear. For at this point the
stream, shallowing, runs in rapid current over a pebbly bed, here and
there breaking into crests.
Woodley's fear has been, that before he and his companions reach the
road, the Indians might get past. If so, the chances of taking them
will be diminished perhaps gone altogether. For, on horseback, they
would have an advantage over those following afoot; and their capture
could only be effected by the most skilful stalking, as such travellers
have the habit of looking behind.
The question is--Have they passed the place, where it was intended to
waylay them?
"I don't think they hev," says Woodley, answering it. "They have hardly
hed time. Besides 'tain't nat'ral they'd ride strait on, jest arter
kimmin' acrosst the river. It's a longish wade, wi' a good deal o' work
for the horses. More like they've pulled up on reachin' the bank, an'
air thar breathin' the critters a bit."