Pringle took to the left, more swiftly.

Time for caution had passed; moonlight might betray him.

When he found a way up that unlucky wall others of the search party farther to the left were well beyond him.
Perhaps a quarter of a mile away, the last sheer cliff, the Thumb which gave the hill its name, frowned above him, a hundred feet from base to crest.

Pringle bore obliquely up to the right.

Speed was his best safety now; he pushed on boldly, cheered by the thought that if seen by any of the posse he would be taken for one of their own number.