Beyond Anvil Rock the night grew blacker. When David reached the buffalo
track he could no longer see even dimly, the forest closing densely in
on both sides of the narrow path, and arching darkly overhead.
Instinctively he put up his hand again and touched the money in his
breast pocket. His grasp on the rifle unconsciously grew firmer, but he
loosed the bridle-rein for a moment to pat the pony. The little beast
entered the shadows of the trees without a tremor; yet there were
dangers therein for him no less than for his rider, and his excited
breathing told that he knew this quite as well as his master. It was so
dark that neither could see the path, and the boy was trusting more to
the pony than to himself, as they went swiftly forward through the still
darkness of the forest. The pony's unshod feet made scarcely a sound on
the soft, moist earth. There had been no frost to thin the thick
branches hanging low over their heads. The few leaves which had drifted
down were still unwithered, and only made the hoof-beats more soundless
on the yielding earth, so that there was not a rustle at the noiseless
passing of the pony and his rider.
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