No
doubt in the rainy season 'twas the bed of a torrent; the bottom
was sandy and pebbly, and hard to the feet. We had gone but a
little way along it when Uncle Moses sank down, and, looking at his
livid face, his panting nostrils and starting eyes, I feared that
the hand of death was upon him. 'Twas clear that he was utterly
spent; he could not even stagger to the farther end of the gorge;
and with the bitter pangs of despair I heard the fierce baying of
the hounds, and had almost resigned myself to the inevitable end.
I glanced round to see whether the pursuers were in sight. I saw,
not them, but something which flashed a wild hope through me. Some
little distance back a tree hung over the sandy bottom, its roots
partially laid bare by the washing of the stream which had now
disappeared. The trunk was inclined at a sharp angle; but little
force would be needed, I thought, to topple it over until it lay
athwart the path which the pursuers must follow. Its foliage was
thick, and though I did not flatter myself 'twould put an end to
the pursuit, I thought it might serve as a check, and enable Uncle
Moses to gain strength enough for a last attempt.
Dropping the muskets by the negro's side, I ran down the gorge,
scrambled up the bank to the base of the tree, and swarmed along
the trunk to the farthest extremity. It was a tall tree, of a kind
I did not know, and my weight upon its tapering top must have
exerted a considerable force upon its loosened lower end.
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