They appealed to him as a direct message of guidance.
The night was already dark, but stars were gleaming brilliantly
overhead, and the trail remained easily traceable. It became terribly
lonely on that wilderness stretching away for unknown leagues in every
direction, yet Hampton scarcely noted this, so watchful was he lest he
miss the trail. To his judgment, Murphy would not be likely to ride
during the night until after he had crossed the Fourche. There was no
reason to suspect that there were any hostile Indians south of that
stream, and probably therefore the old scout would endeavor to conserve
his own strength and that of his horses, for the more perilous travel
beyond. Hampton hastened on, his eyes peering anxiously ahead into the
steadily increasing gloom.
About midnight, the trail becoming obscure, the rider made camp,
confident he must have already gained heavily on the man he pursued.
He lariated his horses, and flinging himself down on some soft turf,
almost immediately dropped asleep. He was up again before daylight,
and, after a hasty meal, pressed on. The nature of the country had
changed considerably, becoming more broken, the view circumscribed by
towering cliffs and deep ravines.
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