"I've been over it enough," rather sullenly. "Is Anse Cowan dead?"
"Yes; but that doesn't affect you at present. You are going to guide us to Covington. Hold the horse. Now Noreen."
She gave me her hand, and I helped her into the saddle. A horse neighed in the distance, but my fingers closed on the nostrils of the animal beside me in time to prevent response. Nichols stood motionless, a tall, shapeless figure, gazing back over the tops of the bushes. I drew my revolver, and touched him with it sharply on the arm.
"Go on," I said quietly, yet with a threat in my voice. "Attempt to run, or play any trick, and I drop you in your tracks."
He turned without a word, and silently pushed a passage through the shrub into more open woods, and I followed, grasping the horse's rein. A hundred yards further along we came into a beaten track, and began to mount upward along a rocky ridge, where the moon gave me good view. It was a scene of silent desolation. I took one glance backward, but trees shut off all glimpse of the church, and the plateau. I thought I heard a voice, or two, calling afar off, perhaps the cavalrymen again signaling Kelly in the ravine, but we had little to fear from them. Our trail could never be followed
