The romance of the buried treasure
which this mystic path was believed to lead to, perpetually held David
under a spell of enchantment. But he would not allow himself to linger
over these mysteries now. He also resisted the horrible fascination of
the Dismal Slough--that long, frightful black pit--linking the swamp to
the river. And most of all he shrunk from giving a thought or a glance
toward the gloom hanging over Duff's Fort, which was still farther off,
and the strongest, most bloody link in the long and unbroken chain of
crime then stretching clear across southwestern Kentucky.
As these uneasy thoughts thronged, a faint sound borne by the wind
caused him to turn his head with a nervous start, and he saw something
moving in the deeper darkness that surrounded the swamp. He pulled up
the pony, tightening his grip on the rifle, and strained his eyes,
trying to make out what this moving object was. The wavering mists were
very thick, and he thought at first that it might be nothing worse than
a denser gathering of the deadly vapor creeping out of the swamp.
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