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 him.
Harry fired into the mass the next instant; a few random shots replied, and another impetus of fear spurred the mob onward.
Fortner and Harry sped away to another point of interception, where the same scene was repeated, and then to another, and then to a third, Fortner muttering after each shot his disappointment at not finding the one whom he anxiously sought.
When they hurried away the third time they were compelled to make a wide circuit, for the little valley suddenly broadened out into a considerable plain.

Upon this the long-drawn-out line of fugitives gathered in a compact, turmoiling mass.
"That's Little Rockassel Ford," said Fortner, pointing with his left hand to the base of the mountain that rose steeply above the farther side of the commotion.

"That's Rockassel Mountain runnin' up thar inter the clouds.

The Little Rockassel River runs round hits foot.