He lifted his hat ironically, waved it to his followers, and the next
moment the whole party were galloping furiously towards the high road.

For the first time that evening a nervous sense of apprehension passed
over Courtland. The impending of some unknown danger is always more
terrible to a brave man than the most overwhelming odds that he can
see and realize. He felt instinctively that they had uttered no vague
bravado to cover up their defeat; there was still some advantage on
which they confidently reckoned--but what? Was it only a reference to
the other party tracking them through the woods on which their enemies
now solely relied? He regained Cato quickly; the white teeth of the
foolishly confident negro were already flashing his imagined triumph to
his employer. Courtland's heart grew sick as he saw it.

"We're not out of the woods yet, Cato," he said dryly; "nor are they.
Keep your eyes and ears open, and attend to me. How long can we keep
in the cover of these woods, and still push on in the direction of the
quarters?"

"There's a way roun' de edge o' de swamp, sah, but we'd have to go back
a spell to find it."

"Go on!"

"And dar's moccasins and copperheads lying round here in de trail! Dey
don't go for us ginerally--but," he hesitated, "white men don't stand
much show."

"Good! Then it is as bad for those who are chasing us as for me. That
will do. Lead on."