They may not set a foot within their fields,
They may not pull a sapling from their hills,
They may not enter their fair mansion house.--HOWITT.
Lyon and Sybil had ridden on through the darkness, over that wild
country road. Their horses had had a very hard day's work in the wagon
harness, and had not recovered from their fatigue. They were still very
tired, and all unaccustomed to the saddle. The road was also very rough,
and the night very dark. Their progress was therefore difficult and
slow.
Unconscious of being followed and overheard, they talked freely of their
plans. Their prospects of final escape were not now nearly so hopeful as
they had been on their two former attempts. They were now undisguised,
and unprovided for the journey, except with money and a change of
clothing. For necessary food they would have to stop at houses, and thus
incur some degree of danger. All this they discussed as their horses
slowly toiled along the rugged road up hill and down, through woods and
fields, until they came near that mountain pass that they had been dimly
seeing before them all night long and that looked like a grey cleft in a
black wall.
"It must be near morning now. But I have not a very clear idea where we
are. I shall be glad when it is light if it is only to consult my map
and compass," said Lyon, uneasily.
"I never was on this side of the mountain before, but it does seem to me
that that must be a spur of the Black Ridge which we see before us,"
suggested Sybil.
"I was thinking the very same thing," added Lyon. "But if that is so, we
must have wandered far out of our way."
"And hush! Don't you hear something?" inquired Sybil, when they had
ridden a little farther on.
"No; what is it?"
"Listen! I want to know if you recognize it," she said.
"I hear a faint, distant roaring, as of a water-fall," he answered,
stopping his horse to hear the better.
"It is our Black Torrent!" exclaimed Sybil.
"Good Heaven! Then we have wandered out of our way with a vengeance.
However, there is no help for it now! We must go on, or stop here until
it is light enough to consult the compass."
"And at any rate, Lyon, no one will think of looking for us so near
home," she added.
"That is true," he admitted.
And they rode on slowly, looking about as well as they could through
the darkness, for a convenient place on which to dismount from the jaded
steeds.
Their path now lay through that deep mountain pass. Steep precipices
arose on either side. They picked their way slowly and carefully through
it, until they entered a crooked path leading down the side of a thickly
wooded hill. Here they rode on, a little more at their ease, until they
reached the bottom of the hill and the edge of the wood, and came out
upon an old forsaken road, running along the shores of a deep and rapid
river, with another mountain range behind.