The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1879-05-09
NUMBER 10.

more than three hours ahead of us. and +
think We may overhaul them tonight"
"Ehey are twenty 10 two" said White.
"We must wait for the men," -,
"We can cross the river" Edgar an.
swesed, Hand ride on as long as We have
light. BY that time we can sec which
Pdirection the Indians have taken you cau
theh return here and hasten up the men.
>s;sS. saS $uss H 1sssh s this poin. before mid
It required but fer; =; niaasea,.o cross tho
river, which at this season lis !always, low.
Upon the western bank the trail sWas stiil
more apparent than upon the eastera.-3
Here, also, there had been halt, tn anrFr
not 50 long. "Threc hours of daylin6t,
now" thought Edgar, "and we should over.
haul them" He forgot that his force wa,
but one to ten--that he was more than n
hundred miles from any settlement, in the
midst of vast solitude, where he could
meet none but enemies. Nor would the
reflection have disturbed him, had it occur.
red. He saw but one image-thc hclples,
captive in the hands of his most hated foes:
and, cool and considerate as he usually was.
he would not have hesitated to encounter
the whole band, with his single strong arm.
Fortunately, perhaps, no such opportunity
seemed likely to be offered him, for, after
winding about for few miles among tho.
bluffs. the trail assembled the ridge which
divides the two rivers, and here turning
again toward tho north, the faSitivcs had
increased their speed. The long twilight,
too, was deepening into night, and the fear
VI nsa'n so,ns us'ruy "oo'a oO-.pe, rs,v,
SO soon as the tracks became invisible.
They followed, however, with all practi-
cable speed, fol an hour longer-dismount-
ing at every offshoot from the main ridge,
to ascertain their direction; but, at the end
Of that time, it was no longer safe to proceed.
and Edgar reluctantly drew up.
"You had better return to the river now,
White" said he, "and bring the men up as
fast as possible. I will expect you before
daybreak."
"!f they do not come up, I'll return my
self" said White; aud turning about ho
rode away to the south.
The hardy ranger was now left alone, in,
the midst of the wilderness. Night had
closd in moonless, and the stars twinklcd
but family down through the woods. The.
wind-as is usual in the country-had
subsidized toward evening, and sunset had
been followed by dead calm. Whom the
footsteps of Whites horse died away in tho
distance, the silence of the grave added
depth and awe to the solitude. Not a
branch waved-scarcely a leaf stirred; and
even the tricklins of little spring, in
ravine near him, only served to make the
stiffness audible, as a glimmering light
but renders darkness visible.
Edgar dismounted, and led his tired horse,
in the direction Of the sound and having
allowed him to drink, divestcd him of his
harness, and picketed him on a slope of
green grass near the spring. Hi, own thirst
satisfied, he then seated himself at the foot
Of tree, and drawing his blanket up over
him, endeavored to sleep. The stiffness
was broken only by his horse eagerly crop
ping the sweet grass and tho monotony Of
the dripping fountain, combined with his.
fatigue, soon brought on that half.dreamy
state which precedes oblivion. Indeed,
his head was thrown back against tho tree, ;.
and his eyes were closed, when he suddenly
sprung TO his feet, aud standing as motion
less as the trees about him, assumed tho
attitude of profound listening.
ITO BE CONTINyEDl