apparently adjuring haste in following.

The great mental and bodily strain Harry had undergone since he had
first heard the sound of cannon in the morning at the foot of Wildcat
should have made him desperately weary. But the sight of the man falling
before his gun had fermented in his blood a fierce intoxication, as
unknown, as unsuspected before as the passion of love had been before
its first keen transports thrilled his heart. Like that ecstacy, this
fever now consumed him. All fear of harm to himself vanished in its
flame. He had actually slain one enemy. Why not another? He raised his
musket. The mountaineer laid his hand upon it.

"No," he said, "that's not the game to hunt. They'll do when thar's
nothin' better to be had, but now powder an' lead kin be used to more
advantage. Besides they're outen range o' your smooth-bore now. Come."

As Fortner threw his rifle across his shoulder Harry looked at it
curiously. It had a long, heavy, six sided barrel, with a large bore,
double triggers, and a gaily striped hickory ramrod in its thimbles. The
stock, of fine, curly rock-maple, was ornamented with silver stars and
crescents, and in the breech were cunning little receptacles for tow and
patches, and other rifle necessaries, each closed by a polished silver
cover that shut with a snap. It was evidently the triumph of some
renowned kentucky gunsmith's skill.

The mountaineer's foot was on the soil he had trodden since childhood,
and Harry found it quite difficult to keep pace with his strong, quick
stride. His step landed firm and sure on the sloping surfaces, where
Harry slipped or shambled. Clinging vines and sharp briers were avoided
without an apparent effort, where every one grasped Harry, or tore his
face and hands.

The instinct of the wolf or the panther seemed to lead Fortner by the
shortest courses through the pathless woods to where he came unperceived
close upon the flank of the mass of harassed fugitives. Then creeping
behind a convenient tree with the supple lightness of the leopard
crouching for a spring, he scanned with eager eyes the mounted officers
within range. Selecting his prey he muttered:

"'Tain't HIM, but he'll hev to do, THIS time."

The weapon rang out sharply. The stricken officer threw up his sword
arm, his bridle arm clutched his saddle-pommel, as if resisting the
attempt of Death to unhorse him. Then the muscles all relaxed, and he
fell into he arms of those who had hurried to h