Chub Williams had a sagacity of this sort. His selfishness was appealed
to, and all his faculties were on the alert. He gave directions for the
progress of the party--after his own manner, it is true--but with
sufficient promptness and intelligence to satisfy them that they might
rely upon him. Having reached a certain lonely spot among the hills,
contiguous to the crag, or series of crags, called the Wolf's Neck, Chub
made the party all dismount, and hide their horses in a thicket into
which they found it no easy matter to penetrate. This done, he led them
out again, cautiously moving along under cover, but near the margin of
the road. He stept as lightly himself as a squirrel, taking care, before
throwing his weight upon his foot, to feel that there was no rotting
branch or bough beneath, the breaking of which might occasion noise.
"Saftly! saftly!" he would say in a whisper, turning back to the party,
when he found them treading hurriedly and heavily upon the brush.
Sometimes, again, he ran ahead of all of them, and for a few moments
would be lost to sight; but he usually returned, as quickly and quietly
as he went, and would either lead them forward on the same route with
confidence, or alter it according to his discoveries.
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