Prisoners of Chance - Page 109/233

"Your plan sounds bravely in words, Chevalier, but were we to attempt it, we should soon find ourselves in more serious stress than now,--ay! before we had covered the first day's journey. My Calvinistic friend, what advice have you for our guidance?"

The sectary's eyes were fastened upon the ragged line of hills at our back, and for the moment he made no response, his seamed face grave with thought.

"How far, Master Benteen," he queried finally, "do you make it from here to the mouth of this river?"

"Not much short of sixty leagues," I answered, after a bit of thinking. "The stream bends and twists so it is difficult to judge the true distance."

"It was a grievous journey," he admitted with a groan, "one I care not to travel again, unless it be revealed plainly to me as the will of the Lord. I name the distance full seventy leagues. What has been the main direction of our course?"

"To north of west."

"Ay! Are we, think you, thirty leagues to northward of where we left the Spaniards?"

"I should say yes, maybe ten leagues more."

"I doubt the extra ten, but even at thirty it would be foolishness to retrace all that hard-won distance merely for the sake of keeping in sight of this muddy stream, the very water of which is unfit for Christian stomach, and of no value otherwise. 'Tis my vote we strike directly east and north, following as straight a trail as possible until we find the great river. It should be as easy travelling as along this bank, and will bring us out above the Spanish lines of guard."

I know not how long I sat there gazing silently into his impassive leathern face, turning over within my own mind the argument of his words. He was neither woodsman nor mountaineer, yet possessed some judgment. Thus considering, I saw but one possible objection to his plan--lack of water or of game along the unknown route to be traversed. But serious scarcity of either was hardly to be expected at this season among the mountains, while the weary leagues of southing thus saved would make no small difference in the length and time of our journey.

"It appears to me our best hope," I admitted candidly. "It will involve clambering over rocks, yet yonder range does not appear high, nor of a width to keep us long in its shadow; besides, the lower reaches of this river are marshy leagues upon leagues, and to my mind walking will be easier if we take higher ground. It is all guesswork at the best. We know how impassable the trail will be below, and, even if we retrace our steps down the river, we shall have to make a wide detour to cross this mad stream. But wait; we have heard no word from Madame de Noyan."