During their absence, the cunning trackers had learned more. From the sign they had gathered another important fact--that there was no longer _a trail for us to follow_!
On entering the Savanna the Indians had _scattered_--the paths they had taken across the gra.s.sy meadow, were as numerous as their horses. As the hunter expressed it, the trail "war split up into fifty pieces."
The latter had ascertained this by crawling out among the long gra.s.s, and noting the tracks.
One in particular had occupied their attention. It was not made by the hoof-prints of horses, though some of these ran alongside, but by the feet of men. They were naked feet; and a superficial observer might have fancied that but one pair of them had pa.s.sed over the ground. The skilled trackers, however, knew this to be a _ruse_. The prints were large, and misshapen, and too deeply indented in the soil to have been produced by a single individual. The long heel, and scarcely convex instep--the huge b.a.l.l.s, and broad prints of the toes, were all signs that the hunters easily understood. They knew that it was the trail of the negro captives who had proceeded thus by the direction of their captors.
This unexpected ruse on the part of the retreating savages created chagrin, as well as astonishment. For the moment all felt outwitted--we believed that the enemy was lost--we should be cheated of our revenge.
Some even talked of the idleness of carrying the pursuit further. A few counselled us to go back; and it became necessary to appeal to their hatred of the savage foe--with most of them a hereditary pa.s.sion--and once more to invoke their vengeance.
At this crisis, old Hickman cheered the men with fresh hope. I was glad to hear him speak.
"We can"t get at "em to-night, boys," said he, after much talk had been spent; "we dasent cross over this hyar clearin" by daylight, an" it"s too big to git roun" it. It "ud take a twenty mile ride to circ.u.mvent the durned thing. Ne"er a mind! Let us halt hyar till the dark comes on. Then we kin steal across; an" if me an" Jim Weatherford don"t scare up the trail on the tother side, then this child never ate allygator. I know they"ll come thegither agin, an" we"ll be like enough to find the durned varments camped somewhar in a clump. Not seein" us arter "em any more, they"ll be feelin" as safe as a bear in a bee tree--an" that"s jest the time to take "em."
The plan was adopted; and, dismounting from our jaded horses, we awaited the setting of the sun.
There are few situations more trying to the boiling blood and pent-up fury of the pursuer--especially if he have bitter cause for vengeance-- than a "check" in the chase; the loss of the trail of course often involves the escape of the foe, and though it may be after a while recovered, yet the delay affords such advantage to the enemy, that every moment serves only to increase the anxiety and whet the fury of the pursuer. This then was my case on the present occasion. While yielding to the advice of the hunter, because I knew it to be the best plan under the circ.u.mstances, I nevertheless could scarce control my impatience, or submit to the delay--but felt impelled to hurry forward, and alone and single-handed, if need be, inflict upon the savage miscreants the punishment due to their murderous deeds.
CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT.
CROSSING THE SAVANNA.
We now suffered the very acme of misery. While riding in hot haste along the trail, there was an excitement, almost continuous, that precluded the possibility of intense reflection, and kept my mind from dwelling too minutely upon the calamity that had befallen me. The prospect of retribution, ever appearing nearer at hand--at every step nearer--all but cancelled my emotions of grief; and motion itself-- knowing it to be forward, and towards the object of hatred--had a certain effect in soothing my troubled soul.
Now that the pursuit was suspended, and I was free to reflect on the events of the morning, my soul was plunged into the deepest misery. My fancy distressed me with dire images. Before me appeared the corpse of my murdered mother--her arms outstretched, waving me on to vengeance.
My sister, too, wan, tearful, dishevelled! dishonoured!
No wonder that with painful impatience I awaited the going down of the sun. I thought I had never seen that grand orb sink so slowly. The delay tortured me almost to distraction.
The sun"s disc was blood red, from a thick haze that hung over the woods. The heavens appeared lowering, and angry--they had the hue of my own spirit.
At length, twilight came on. Short it was--as is usual in Southern lat.i.tudes--though it appeared long and tardy in pa.s.sing away. Darkness followed, and once more springing to my saddle, I found relief in motion.
Emerging from the timber, we rode out upon the open savanna. The two hunters, acting as guides, conducted us across. There was no attempt made to follow any of the numerous trails. In the darkness, it would have been impossible, but even had there been light enough left them, the guides would have pursued a different course.
Hickman"s conjecture was, that on reaching the opposite side, the marauding party would come together at some rendezvous previously agreed upon. The trail of any one, therefore, would be sufficient for our purpose, and in all probability would conduct us to their camp. Our only aim, then, was to get across the savanna un.o.bserved; and this the darkness might enable us to accomplish.
Silently as spectres we marched over the open meadow. We rode with extreme slowness, lest the hoof-strokes should be heard. Our tired steeds needed no taming down. The ground was favourable--a surface of soft, gra.s.sy turf, over which our animals glided with noiseless tread.
Our only fears were, that they should scent the horses of the Indians, and betray us by their neighing.
Happily our fears proved groundless; and, after half an hour"s silent marching, we reached the other side of the savanna, and drew up under the shadowy trees.
It was scarce possible we could have been observed. If the Indians had left spies behind them, the darkness would have concealed us from their view, and we had made no noise by which our approach could have been discovered, unless their sentinels had been placed at the very point where we re-entered the woods. We saw no signs of any, and we believed that none of the band had lingered behind, and we had not been seen.
We congratulated one another in whispers; and in like manner deliberated on our future plans of proceeding. We were still in our saddles--with the intention to proceed further. We should have dismounted upon the spot, and waited for the light of morning to enable us to take up the trail, but circ.u.mstances forbade this. Our horses were suffering from thirst, and their riders were no better off. We had met with no water since before noon, and a few hours under the burning skies of Florida are sufficient to render thirst intolerable. Whole days in a colder climate would scarce have an equal effect.
Both horses and men suffered acutely--we could neither sleep nor rest, without relief--water must be sought for, before a halt could be made.
We felt hunger as well, for scarce any provision had been made for the long march--but the pangs of this appet.i.te were easier to be endured.
Water of itself would satisfy us for the night, and we resolved to ride forward in search of it.
In this dilemma, the experience of our two guides promised relief. They had once made a hunting excursion to the savanna we had crossed. It was in the times when the tribes were friendly, and white men were permitted to pa.s.s freely through the "reserve." They remembered a pond, at which, upon that occasion, they had made their temporary encampment. They believed it was not far distant from the spot where we had arrived. It might be difficult to find in the darkness, but to suffer on or search for it were our only alternatives.
The latter was of course adopted; and once more allowing Hickman and Weatherford to pioneer the way, the rest of us rode silently after.
We moved in single file, each horse guided by the one that immediately preceded him; in the darkness no other mode of march could be adopted.
Our party was thus strung out into a long line, here and there curving according to the sinuosities of the path, and gliding like some monstrous serpent among the trees.
CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE.
GROPING AMONG THE TIMBER.
At intervals the guides were at fault; and then the whole line was forced to halt and remain motionless. Several times both Hickman and Weatherford were puzzled as to the direction they should take. They had lost the points of the compa.s.s, and were bewildered.
Had there been light, they could have recovered this knowledge by observing the bark upon the trees--a craft well-known to the backwoods hunter--but it was too dark to make such an observation. Even amidst the darkness, Hickman alleged he could tell north from south by the "feel" of the bark: and for this purpose I now saw him groping against the trunks. I noticed that he pa.s.sed from one to another, trying several of them, the better to confirm his observations.
After carrying on these singular manoeuvres for a period of several minutes, he turned to his comrade with an exclamation that betokened surprise:--
"Dog-gone my cats, Jim," said he, speaking in an undertone, "these woods are altered since you and I war hyar--what the ole scratch kin be the matter wi" "em? The bark"s all peeled off and thar as dry as punk."
"I was thinkin" they had a kewrious look," replied the other, "but I s"posed it was the darkness o" the night."
"Neer a bit of it--the trees is altered someways, since we war hyar afore! They are broom pines--that I recollect well enough--let"s git a bunch o" the leaves, and see how they looks."
Saying this, he reached his hand upwards, and plucked one of the long fascicles that drooped overhead.
"Ugh!" continued he, crushing the needles between his fingers, "I see how it are now. The darnationed moths has been at "em--the trees are dead.
"D"yer think thar all dead?" he inquired after a pause, and then advancing a little, he proceeded to examine some others.
"Dead as durnation!--every tree o" "em--wal! we must go by guess-work-- thar"s no help for it, boys. Ole Hick kin guide you no furrer. I"m dead beat, and know no more "bout the direkshun o" that ere pond, than the greenest greenhorn among ye."
This acknowledgment produced no very pleasant effect. Thirst was torturing all those who heard it. Hitherto, trusting that the skill of the hunters would enable them to find water, they had sustained it with a degree of patience. It was now felt more acutely than ever.
"Stay," said Hickman, after a few moments had elapsed. "All"s not lost that"s in danger. If I arn"t able to guide ye to the pond, I reckon I"ve got a critter as kin. Kin you, ole hoss?" he continued, addressing himself to the animal he bestrode--a wiry old jade that Hickman had long been master of--"kin you find the water? Gee up, ole beeswax! and let"s see if you kin."
Giving his "critter" a kick in the ribs, and at the same time full freedom of the bridle, he once more started forwards among the trees.
We all followed as before, building fresh hopes upon the instinct of the animal.
Surely the pride of man ought to be somewhat abased, when he reflects, that he, "the lord of the creation," is oftentimes foiled in attempts which, by the mere instincts of the lower animals, are of easy accomplishment. What a lesson of humility this ought to teach to the wanton and cruel oppressor of those n.o.ble animals, whose strength, and instinct, and endurance, are all made subservient to his comfort. It is in the hour of danger and peril alone, that man realises his dependence upon agencies other than his own lordly will.
We had not proceeded far, when it became known that Hickman"s horse had got scent of the water. His owner alleged that he "smelt" it, and the latter knew this, as well as if it had been one of his hounds taking up the trail of a deer.
The horse actually exhibited signs of such an intelligence. His muzzle was protruded forwards, and now and then he was heard to sniff the air; while, at the same time, he walked forward in a direct line--as if making for some object. Surely he was heading for water. Such was the belief.