"What does that mean?" again asked Cameron, weak and sick with horror.
"Mount!" yelled Raven with a terrible oath and flourishing a revolver
in his hand. "Mount quick!" His face was pale, his eyes burned with a
fierce glare, while his voice rang with the blast of a bugle.
"Lead those pack horses down that trail!" he yelled, thrusting the line
into Cameron's hand. "Quick, I tell you!"
"Crack-crack!" Twice a bullet sang savagely past Cameron's ears.
"Quicker!" shouted Raven, circling round the bunch of ponies with wild
cries and oaths like a man gone mad. Again and again the revolver spat
wickedly and here and there a pony plunged recklessly forward, nicked
in the ear by one of those venomous singing pellets. Helpless to
defend himself and expecting every moment to feel the sting of a bullet
somewhere in his body, Cameron hurried his pony with all his might down
the trail, dragging the pack animals after him. In huddled confusion the
terrified brutes followed after him in a mad rush, for hard upon their
rear, like a beast devil-possessed, Nighthawk pressed, biting, kicking,
squealing, to the accompaniment of his rider's oaths and yells and
pistol shots. Down the long sloping trail to the very end of the valley
the mad rush continued. There the ascent checked the fury of the speed
and forced a quieter pace.
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