He went on through the pitchy darkness that obscured the earth. He had a fair sense of direction, but at length he became confused. For all he knew, he might be travelling miles off his course. When the first faint light of day streaked the east, he paused in dismay. His fears were confirmed. He had been walking south instead of west, and it would be necessary to retrace his steps. His heart was heavy as he turned to the right and struck off through a wilderness of rocks and trees that encompassed him on every side.
Daylight found him on the shore of a small river, not yet frozen over, whose icy waters cascaded down from the hills. He knew that if he followed this stream, it would lead him eventually to the ocean. He struggled on, conscious of fatigue and hunger. His feet were blistered and sore. His clothing was torn. An unexpected fall on a slippery rock had wrenched his right wrist, causing him excruciating pain. He was moving slowly along, wondering how much farther he would be compelled to go before he reached the coast, when a tall figure stepped out from its concealment of rocks, less than fifty yards ahead. It was one of the outlaws.
For a time despair choked him. Then he jumped quickly to cover and hurried back over the selfsame route he had come.
During the next few hours, Dick engaged in a grim and desperate game of hide-and-seek with the outlaws. On several occasions he escaped death narrowly. He turned hither and thither, like a hunted animal, only to find his path barred by one or more of his enemies. Finally, in a last despairing effort to save himself, he struck off toward a high hill, on the crest of which were lofty rocks and towering pinnacles—broken and jagged slabs of granite. Here he would make his stand. Even though surrounded, he would have a chance to ward off attack. If necessary, he would remain here all day and make another break for freedom with the coming of darkness.
Climbing up, he reached the natural fortress and breathed a sigh of relief. He had neither food nor water. From a bush, which grew in a crevice in the rocks, he gathered fuel with which to start a fire. Then he sat down to wait.
In all his experience, he had never suffered more than upon this occasion. His stomach gnawed with hunger. He shook from exhaustion. Bareheaded, moccasins almost cut from his feet, clothing soiled and tattered, hands and face scratched—his appearance beggared description. His cheeks were hollow, while his eyes shone with a feverish, almost insane light.