# The Red Mist/Chapter 33

CHAPTER XXXIII
THE TRAIL TO COVINGTON
AS I gripped the horse's rein, and turned him slowly around I heard a single shot fired in the gorge below, the sound echoing among the rocks, and a spark of fire gleamed through the darkness. It was far enough away to give me little concern, yet the report must have been heard by the cavalry squad now well out in the open, for they wheeled their horses and rode straight toward the ravine. Their course would bring them higher up, just to the rear of the church, yet, with suspicions once aroused, 'twas likely they would patrol the banks, seeking for some passage below. Confident the distance between us was sufficient to hide my movements so long as I kept well back in the shadow of the trees, I led the horse forward, advancing as rapidly as I dared to travel, using one hand to steady Raymond's body swaying across the saddle. It must have been a quarter of a mile, or more, to where the forest spread out from the bank into a dark tangle of trees, extending half across the ridge. The winding of the ravine took me out of sight of the body of horsemen ​above, yet I knew they had galloped to the edge of the gorge, and were calling to whoever was below. I could hear the shouts, without catching the words, and even imagined I distinguished a faint cry in return. By slipping the lieutenant's belt over the saddle horn, thus preventing his limp body from sliding off, I urged the animal to a sharp trot.
What was before us in those dark woods was all conjecture—but I possessed infinite confidence in Noreen. The very silence, coupled with the fact that no sign of the two fugitives had been met with along the way, convinced me that they had safely attained the rendezvous, and were now there, anxiously awaiting my arrival. The time had not been long, and the girl would never consent to proceed alone with Nichols, until she had lost every hope of my joining her. He might not remain willingly in such close proximity to danger, but I could count on her to keep the fellow there until the last possible moment. We went down into a shallow gully, and then climbed the opposite bank, having to force a passage through thick shrub, I pressing the branches aside to prevent their scratching Raymond's face. He gave utterance to a groan, and I lifted his head, supporting it on my shoulder as we topped the rise. The horse shied, and I caught glimpse of a shadow flitting across an open space.
​"Noreen!"
"Is it really you? I could not tell—the horse; the something across the saddle."
She came forward with a swift spring, not satisfied until her hand actually touched me.
"Oh, I am so glad—you are not even hurt?"
"Not seriously; battered up a bit—Nichols?"
"Yes, he is here; there beside the tree. Tell me what has happened! What have you here? Why it is a man," she shrank back, "a—a dead man!"
"No, not dead," I hastened to explain, unbuckling the belt, and lowering the still limp body to the ground. "Here, parson, don't let the horse stray. We cannot waste many minutes here; there are cavalrymen scouting the edge of the ravine yonder, and they may come as far as this. That is why I brought the fellow along—to keep him from being found. Do you recognize the face, Noreen?"
It was dark and shadowy where we were and she was compelled to bend low to distinguish the features. Her lips gave a startled, half-suppressed cry:
"Why it is Lieutenant Raymond! You—you fought together? How did he come here?"
"I think he suspected we might manage to escape from the church. He was more anxious to capture me than he was to fight evidently, for I caught no ​glimpse of his face during the melee. But he, and three troopers, were hidden at the edge of the woods watching where the trail comes up from the ravine."
"Yes," breathlessly, "we saw them come across, just after the torches began to flare up inside the church. Then later another man rode along there."
"That was Kelly; he brought word that we had got away. I was within ten feet of them when they met. The lieutenant swore at the news, and sent the four men down the trail to search—he offered one hundred dollars for me, dead or alive."
She arose to her feet, but the darkness prevented my seeing the expression on her face.
"He did! this man?" she exclaimed, the horror of the thought visible in the tone. "Why, what is it to him? I do not understand why he should exhibit such bitterness—he was determined to convict you from the first. There was no feud between you two, was there?"
"Only Noreen Harwood," I answered, speaking softly. "But—look! the cavalry squad just passed across that open space; they are riding this way. Raymond will revive presently, and some of his men will find him here; Kelly will search as soon as he discovers the man is missing. Nichols, fasten the belt about his arms—yes, buckle it behind; a notch tighter. You know the trail?"
​"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 ​before morning, and dawn would be three hours away. I slipped my weapon back into my belt, confident Nichols would make no attempt to desert. He was slouching forward, muttering something to himself as he walked, and never even turned his head to glance behind. I stole a look upward at the lady in the saddle, but did not venture to address her. She sat erect, her face slightly averted, both hands on the pommel. Twice I glanced upward, seeking the encouragement of her eyes, but her thoughts appeared to be elsewhere, and I plodded on, my heart grown heavy. Beyond doubt she realized now what the end was to be. In the rush and excitement of the past few days, her natural desire to save me from the death of a spy, she had found no time for thought, for consideration. She had merely obeyed the swift impulse of the moment. But now, riding this dark mountain trail, all immediate peril left behind, she was facing the future—and regret. Her father's death, her sudden abandonment of home and friends, her disloyalty to the cause with which her sympathies were enlisted, her forced marriage, came fresh to her memory like haunting phantoms. Once, I thought, she lifted a hand, and dashed a tear from her eye; and her head sank lower, as though she would hide her face. She was evidently ashamed, regretful, unhappy; if ever ​she had cared for me, even in ordinary friendship, that feeling had changed into dislike—probably into actual hatred. I seemed to feel the change; to comprehend the growing horror with which she confronted the future. I wanted to tell her that I understood; that I sympathized; that I would never consent to stand between her and happiness. Plan after plan flashed through my mind—she should be free; she should go to her own friends, and never see me again. I would arrange to drop out of her life as suddenly as I had come into it. But the impetuous words died unuttered on my lips. Steadily we pushed on through the darkness, no word exchanged between us, slipping and sliding along the rocky trail, following Nichols down into a black valley, and then up again to a steep, narrow ridge. All about us was the night, and the silence.
Then the dawn broke, the black gloom fading into gray, the clouds of fog in the deep valley below us rising slowly until the rays of the rising sun lifted them to the mountain tops, reddening the mist into grotesque beauty, and revealing the green glades beneath. It was a wild, desolate scene, and we paused on the edge of what seemed a sheer precipice to gaze. Even Nichols stopped, and looked down, pointing to the ridge of rock along which the barely perceptible trail ran.
​"You'll hav' ter pick yer way mighty careful 'long thar," he said slowly. "'Tain't jist safe fer a hoss, nohow, but I reckon he'll pick his own way all right. Thar's a cabin 'round behind that bend whar we mout git a bite ter eat."
"Who lives there?"
"A fellar named Larrabee; but I reckon thar won't be noboddy ter hom' but the ol' woman—Bill's conscripted."
"Go on down," I said after a moment, "and we'll follow slowly. How far away is Covington?"
"'Bout twenty mile—in the next valley beyond them hills."
He disappeared around a sharp ledge, and Noreen and I were alone—alone, it seemed to me, in all the world. I dare not even look at her, as I helped her out of the saddle. Tired from the long hours of riding along the rough trail, she staggered slightly on her feet, and her hands clasped my arm. Our eyes met, and in the depths of hers was the mist of tears.
"Tom," she said earnestly, her voice faltering. "I cannot stand this any longer. I—I must know—what—what I am to you?"
"To me!" I echoed, the blood leaping in my veins. "Do you not know? Can you feel the slightest doubt?"
​"Doubt! it is all doubt. You have spoken no word to guide me. You married me to save me from Anse Cowan. You permitted me to come with you because I would consent to nothing else. I do not even know that it is your choice that I go on beside you into the valley."
"Noreen," and I had her hands in mine. "It is my choice that you go with me all the way through life—dear girl, I love you."
The long lashes hid her eyes, but her cheeks were crimson; then I looked down into the blue depths, through the tear mist, and read my answer.
THE END