Every hair of his head stood stiffly up in mortal terror when a huge catamount, screaming like a fiend, leaped down from a tree, and confronted them for an instant with hideously-gleaming yellow eyes.
"Cuss-an'-burn the nasty varmint!" said Fortner angrily, snatching up a pine knot from his feet and flinging it at the beast, which vanished into the darkness with another curdling scream.
"Don't that man know what fear is ?" wondered Harry, ignorant that the true mountaineer feels toward these vociferous felidae about the same contempt with which a plainsman regards a coyote.
At length Fortner slackened his pace, and began to move with caution.
"Are we coming upon the enemy again ?" asked Harry, in a loud whisper, which had yet a perceptible quaver in it.
"No," answered Fortner, "but we're a-comin' ter what is every bit an' grain ez dangersome.

Heah's whar the path winds round Blacksnake Clift, an' ye'll hev ter be ez keeful o' your footin' ez ef ye war treadin' the slippery ways o' sin.

The path's no wider 'n a hoss's back, an' no better ter walk on.

On the right hand side hit's several rods down ter whar the creek's tearin' 'long like a mad dog.

Heah hit now, can't ye ?" For some time the roar of the torrent sweeping the gorge had filled Harry's ears.
"Ye want ter walk slow," continued Fortner, "an' feel keefully with yer foot every time afore ye sot hit squar'ly down.