looking down, I could perceive nothing in the black void. A voice shouted an order, but it sounded far off, and indistinct. I was in a narrow gully, the incline less steep than amid the rocks below, and could perceive the lighter canopy of the sky not far above me. As I crept out into the open space, someone touched match to a pile of dry limbs in the cove below, and the red flames leaped high, revealing the scene. I caught a glimpse of it—staring down as though I clung at the mouth of hell, seeing moving black figures, and the dark, motionless shadows of dead men. The one glimpse was enough, the fearful tragedy of it smiting me like a blow, and I turned and ran, stumbling over the rough ground, my only thought that of escape.
There were stars in the sky, their dim light sufficient to yield some faint guidance. It occurred to me, even in the terror of my flight, that the attacking party doubtless had horses tethered somewhere to the left. Yet they would be under guard, and I dare not seek them. My course led me close beside the edge of the ridge; I could see the reflection of the fire below on the opposite hillside, but I soon left this behind, and plunged thankfully forward into the concealing shadow of a wood. Here the ground fell away to the banks of a shallow stream, and some instinct of woodcraft led me to wade down with its
