They looked infinitely high and rugged, far higher
than any hills I had ever seen before, for my own Tinto or Cairntable
would to these have been no more than a footstool. I made out a clear
breach in the range, which I took to be old Studd's Clearwater Gap. The
whole sight intoxicated me. I might dream of horrors in the low coast
forests among their swampy creeks, but in that clear high world of the
hills I believed lay safety. I could have gazed at them for hours, but
Shalah would permit of no delay. He hurried us across the open meadows,
and would not relax his pace till we were on a low wooded ridge with
the young waters of the Rapidan running in a shallow vale beneath.
Here we halted in a thick clump of cedars, while he and Ringan went
forward to spy out the land. In that green darkness, save by folk
travelling along the ridge, we could not be detected, and I knew
enough of Indian ways to believe that any large party would keep the
stream sides. We lit a fire without fear, for the smoke was hid in the
cedar branches, and some of us roasted corn-cakes. Our food in the
saddle-bags would not last long, and I foresaw a ticklish business when
it came to hunting for the pot. A gunshot in these narrow glens would
reverberate like a cannon.
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