Sevier darted back toward the three horses hidden among the rocks, but he had scarcely started when the bully’s shrill whistle rang out. Before he could cover quarter of the distance the whistling was repeated several times and Hester’s mount came galloping through the thickets in answer to his master’s call. The borderer essayed to catch the bridle, but with a snort the animal jumped aside and crashed toward the trail. The excited cries of the outlaws, punctuated by Hester’s loud oaths of admiration, greeted the arrival of the horse. Sevier’s only consolation was the knowledge that although the faithful beast had answered the call he could not guide the outlaws to the ledge. And yet, a quarter of a mile even of thick forest did not afford as wide a margin of safety as Sevier would wish. The borderer realized that whatever action he was to take to safeguard the secret of the ledge must be initiated at once. At a point where a twist in the trail hid the band from view Sevier crossed to the other side. Moving parallel to the trail, he gained a position opposite the horsemen just as Red Hajason was commanding: “Spread out in a thin line an’ beat up the woods. The hoss come from some spot near here. The trackers will go ahead an’ foller the hoss’s tracks. When any one sights the runaways jest give a yell an’ lay low till all of us can come up. Not a word, mind ye, till ye see something.” Sevier crawled closer, until, by kneeling, he could detect the movement of a horse on the trail. Raising his rifle, he fired. The animal dropped, shot through the head. The rider, thrown violently to the ground, quickly identified himself by cursing volubly as only Red Hajason could curse. Sevier, although deeply regretting his lead had killed the horse instead of its master, thus distracted the outlaws from their purpose of searching the woods in the vicinity of the ledge. He began falling back, slipping noiselessly from tree to tree, while Hajason yelled for his men to dismount and give chase. The men obeyed but displayed a strong inclination to keep well together. Such a daring attack could have been made by but one man, Chucky Jack, whose woodcraft was superior to that of an Indian’s. “—— ye for white-livered hounds!” roared Red Hajason. “Spread out! A hundred pounds to the man what fetches me his head!” Stimulated by this offer and spurred on by their fear of their leader, the men lengthened the line, and Sevier knew he must give ground in earnest. He was in a peculiar predicament, for his task was increased two-fold by the appearance of Hester’s horse. He must adhere to his original plan of securing assistance; the safety of the girl demanded that. Yet he must remain in contact with the gang or the men would become discouraged at their lack of success and return to investigate the east side of the trail.