come up the gorge itself.

Presently something splashed heavily in the water near him. A stone had
been rolled over the brink. He drew his horse and himself more closely
against the wall. Another stone fell near and a laugh came from above.
Evidently the lads in blue had pushed the stones over merely to hear the
splash, because Harry ceased to hear the voices and he was quite sure
that they had ridden away.

He waited a little while for precaution, and then resumed his own
careful journey through the gorge. Just as the dawn was breaking he
emerged from the stream and entered the forest. It was a cold dawn,
that of late October, white with frost, and Harry shivered. There was
still food in his knapsack, and he ate hungrily as he rode through the
deserted country, and wondered what had become of Shepard and the others.

It was not yet full day. The grass was still white with frost. The
early wind, blowing out of the north, brought an increased chill.
The food Harry had eaten defended him somewhat against the cold, but his
body had been weakened by so much riding and loss of sleep that he found
it wise to unroll his blanket and wrap it around his shoulders and chest.

He was, perhaps, affected by the cold and anxiety, but the country
seemed singularly lonesome and depressing. Sweeping the whole circle of
the horizon with his glasses, he saw several farm houses, but no smoke
was rising from their chimneys. Silent and cold, they added to his own
feeling of desolation. He wondered what had become of his comrades.
Perhaps Sherburne had been taken, or killed. He was not one to
surrender, even to overwhelming numbers, without a fight.