ithin
about fifty yards of the ford at a spot where the path widens, they pull
up, Woodley and Clancy riding a little apart from the others, as if to
hold consultation whether they shall proceed across the stream, or stay
where they are for the night.

Clancy wishes to go forward, but Woodley objects, urging fatigue, and
saying:--

"It can't make much diff'rence now, whether we git up thar the night, or
take it leezyurly in the cool o' the mornin'. Since you say ye don't
intend showin' yourself 'bout the mission buildin', it'll be all the
better makin' halt hyar. We kin steal nearer; an' seelect a campin'
place at the skreek o' day jest afore sun-up. Arter thet me an' Ned 'll
enter the settlement, an' see how things stand."

"Perhaps you're right," responds Clancy, "If you think it better for us
to halt here, I shan't object; though I've an idea we ought to go on.
It may appear very absurd to you, Sime, but there's something on my
mind--a sort of foreboding."

"Forebodin' o' what?"

"In truth I can't tell what or why. Yet I can't get it out of my head
that there's some danger hanging over--"

He interrupts himself, holding back the name--Helen Armstrong. For it
is over her he fancies danger may be impending. No new fancy either;
but one that has been afflicting him all along, and urging him so
impatiently onward. Not that he has learnt anything new since leaving
the Sabine. On its banks the ex-jailer discharged his conscience in
full, by confessing all he could. At most not much; since his late
associates, seeing the foolish fellow he was, had never made him sharer
in their greatest secret. Still he had heard and reported enough to
give Clancy good reason for uneasiness.

"I kin guess who you're alludin' to," rejoins Woodley, without waiting
for the other to finish, "an' ef so, yur forebodin', as ye call it, air
only a foolish notion, an' nothin' more. Take Sime Woodley's word for
it, ye'll find things up the river all right."

"I hope so."

"Ye may be sure o't. Kalklate, ye don't know Planter Armstrong 's
well's I do, tho' I admit ye may hev a better knowledge o' one that
bears the name. As for the ole kurnel hisself, this chile's kampayned
wi' him in the Cherokee wars, an' kin say for sartin he aint a-goin' to
sleep 'ithout keepin' one o' his peepers skinned. Beside, his party air
too strong, an' the men composin' it too exparienced, to be tuk by
surprise, or attacked by any enemy out on thes