[Footnote 6: _Brash_--rash, head-strong, over-valiant.]

"You may go," said Edith, not at all solicitous to retain a follower of
Mr. Stackpole's character and conversation: "we have no occasion for your
assistance."

"Farewell!" said Ralph; and turning, and giving his pony a thump with his
fist and a kick with each heel, and uttering a shrill whoop, he darted
away through the forest, and was soon out of sight.

CHAPTER IX.

The course of Stackpole was through the woods, in a direction immediately
opposite to that by which Roland had ridden to his assistance.

"He is going to the Lower Ford," said Telie, anxiously. "It is not too
late for us to follow him. If there are Indians in the wood, it is the
only way to escape them!"

"And why should we believe there _are_ Indians in the wood?" demanded
Roland; "because that half-mad rogue, made still madder by his terrors,
saw something which his fancy converted into the imaginary Nick of the
Woods? You must give me a better reason than that, my good Telie, if you
would have me desert the road. I have no faith in your Jibbenainosays."

But a better reason than her disinclination to travel it, and her fears
lest, if Indians were abroad, they would be found lying in ambush at the
upper and more frequented pass of the river, the girl had none to give;
and, in consequence, Roland (though secretly wondering at her
pertinacity, and still connecting it in thought with his oft-remembered
dream), expressing some impatience at the delays they had already
experienced, led the way back to the buffalo-road, resolved to prosecute
it with vigour. But fate had prepared for him other and more serious
obstructions.

He had scarce regained the path, before he became sensible, from the
tracks freshly printed in the damp earth, that a horseman, coming from
the very river towards which he was bending his way, had passed by whilst
he was engaged in the wood liberating the horse-thief. This was a
circumstance that both pleased and annoyed him. It was so far agreeable,
as it seemed to offer the best proof that the road was open, with none of
those dreadful savages about it, who had so long haunted the brain of
Telie Doe. But what chiefly concerned the young soldier was the knowledge
that he had lost an opportunity of inquiring after his friends, and
ascertaining whether they had really pitched their camp on the banks of
the river; a circumstance which he now rather hoped than dared to b