For the first time that evening a nervous sense of apprehension passed over Courtland. The impending of some unknown danger is always more terrible to a brave man than the most overwhelming odds that he can see and realize. He felt instinctively that they had uttered no vague bravado to cover up their defeat; there was still some advantage on which they confidently reckoned--but what? Was it only a reference to the other party tracking them through the woods on which their enemies now solely relied? He regained Cato quickly; the white teeth of the foolishly confident negro were already flashing his imagined triumph to his employer. Courtland's heart grew sick as he saw it. “We're not out of the woods yet, Cato,” he said dryly; “nor are they. Keep your eyes and ears open, and attend to me. How long can we keep in the cover of these woods, and still push on in the direction of the quarters?” “There's a way roun' de edge o' de swamp, sah, but we'd have to go back a spell to find it.” “Go on!” “And dar's moccasins and copperheads lying round here in de trail! Dey don't go for us ginerally--but,” he hesitated, “white men don't stand much show.” “Good! Then it is as bad for those who are chasing us as for me. That will do. Lead on.” They retraced their steps cautiously, until the negro turned into a lighter by-way. A strange mephitic odor seemed to come from sodden leaves and mosses that began to ooze under their feet. They had picked their way in silence for some minutes; the stunted willows and cypress standing farther and farther apart, and the openings with clumps of sedge were frequent. Courtland was beginning to fear this exposure of his follower, and had moved up beside him, when suddenly the negro caught his arm, and trembled violently. His lips were parted over his teeth, the whites of his eyes glistened, he seemed gasping and speechless with fear. “What's the matter, Cato?” said Courtland glancing instinctively at the ground beneath. “Speak, man!--have you been bitten?” The word seemed to wring an agonized cry from the miserable man. “Bitten! No; but don't you hear 'em coming, sah! God Almighty! don't you hear dat?” “What?” “De dogs! de houns!--DE BLOODHOUNS! Dey've set 'em loose on me!” It was true! A faint baying in the distance was now distinctly audible to Courtland. He knew now plainly the full, cruel purport of the leader's speech,--those who could go anywhere were tracking their game! Every trace of manhood had vanished from the negro's cowering frame. Courtland laid his hand assuringly, appealingly, and then savagely on his shoulder. “Come! Enough of this! I am here, and will stand by you, whatever comes. These dogs are no more to be feared than the others. Rouse yourself, man, and at least help ME make a fight of it.”