For a moment there seemed doubt in Dyck's mind what to do, but presently
he had decided.
"Ride slow for Salem," he said. "It's Maroons there in the bush. They
are waiting for night. They won't attack us now. They're in ambush--of
that I'm sure. If they want to capture Salem, they'll not give alarm by
firing on us, so if we ride on they'll think we haven't sensed them. If
they do attack us, we'll know they are in good numbers, for they'll be
facing us as well as the garrison of Salem. But keep your muskets ready.
Have a drink," he added, and handed his horn of liquor. "If they see us
drink, and they will, they'll think we've only stopped to refresh, and
we'll be safe. In any case, if they attack, fire your muskets at them
and ride like the devil. Don't dismount and don't try to find them in
the rocks. They'll catch us that way, as they've caught others. It's a
poor game fighting hidden men. I want to get them into the open down
below, and that's where they'll be before we're many hours older."
With this he rode on slightly ahead, and presently put his horse at a
gentle canter which he did not increase as they neared the place where
the black men ambushed.
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