The next instant the whoops sounded again, hut they came from the front!
“Gorrynation!” gasped Jethro drawing on his bridle rein; “dey am on ebery side; de only way out oh dis muss is for Jilk to climb up de sides ob de rocks.”
Could he have believed he was not in plain view of his enemies, Jethro would have leaped from his saddle and hidden himself. He thought of doing it as matters stood, but dared not.
The quick glances to the right and left of the gorge failed to show him any one of his enemies, but he knew they were there. Had there been any doubt as to that it vanished the next moment when an arrow flitted like a swallow between him and the streaming forelock of his pony.
“I’m a goner!” he wailed, throwing himself forward so as to be as flat as possible on the back of his animal.
He reflected that the missile had passed in front of him, so that it looked as if he were placing himself nearer the path of other similar missiles. But he was going all the time, and the next one would possibly go behind, or more likely through him.
