He was literally
feeling his way; the instincts and experience of the practised scout
finding no sort of obstacle in the deficiency of his reasoning powers.
His processes did not argue any doubts of his course; only a choice of
direction--such as would promise more ease and equal security. Some of
his changes of movement, he tried to explain, in his own fashion, when
he came back to guide them on other paths.
"Saftly back--saftly now, this way. Guy's in his dark house in the rock,
but there's a many rooms, and 't mout be, we're a walking jest now, over
his head. Then he mout hear, you see, and Guy's got ears like the great
owl. He kin hear mighty far in the night, and see too; and you mustn't
step into his holes. There's heap of holes in Guy's dark house. Saftly,
now--and here away."
Briefly, the rocky avenues were numerous in the Wolf's Neck, and some of
them ran near the surface. There were sinks upon the surface also,
covered with brush and clay, into which the unthinking wayfarer might
stumble, perhaps into the very cavern where the outlaw at that moment
housed himself.
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