"What is it?" asked Lucien in surprise.
"Do not ask me--a good thought strikes me; but we have not a moment to lose--time is precious. Let us be off!"
"But shall we leave Jeanette?"
"By all means. Francois _might_ come up."
"If he should, how is he to know where we are gone?"
"True," answered Basil, reflecting a moment. "Oh!" he continued, "give me your paper and pencil. You tie Jeanette while I write."
Lucien handed him a small slip of paper with a pencil; and then proceeded to tie the mule securely to one of the branches.
Basil took the paper and wrote:--
"_Francois, we are gone upon your trail. Stay by Jeanette_."
He fastened the paper conspicuously to the trunk of a tree; and then, seizing his rifle and leaping into the saddle, called upon Lucien to follow him.
Lucien mounted, and rode after, while the dog Marengo trotted in the rear.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
TRAILING WITH A BLOOD-HOUND.
They rode in a direct line to the spot where they had started in pursuit of the turkeys. From this place Francois had taken to the left; but there were many tracks leading in the same direction--of horses, too, that had galloped.
"As I told you, brother," remarked Basil, "we could never have followed his trail by the tracks. Even here we are not certain of it. These must be his though--they look a little fresher than the others. Let us try them. Marengo!"
"Stay, brother!" interrupted Lucien. "The last place I saw Francois was yonder. I caught a glimpse of him pa.s.sing round that point of timber."
"Ha! that is better. Perhaps, there his tracks may be separate from the others. Come on!"
They rode about a hundred paces farther, which brought them to the point of timber indicated by Lucien.
"Yes," exclaimed Basil, "you are right! He has pa.s.sed here. There are his tracks distinctly."
Basil dismounted, giving Lucien his rein. He knelt upon the gra.s.s, and examined the hoof-prints, one after the other, with extreme care.
"So!" he muttered, as he rose again to his feet, "I shall know _you_ among a thousand."
"Make yourself ready for a hard ride," he continued, addressing Lucien.
"The dog, no doubt, will lead us in a gallop. Marengo!"
The hound came running up to where the young hunter was stooping over the trail. The latter held a red object in his arms. It was Francois"
blanket, which he had loosed from his horse"s flank, and flung away when starting on the chase. The dog scented the blanket, uttering as he did so a low whimper, and gazing in his master"s face with a look of intelligence. He seemed to comprehend what was required of him.
Basil now flung the blanket over his own saddle, stooped again, drew his fingers along the gra.s.s, and, with a wave of his hand, motioned Marengo to follow its direction. The hound, uttering a single yelp, bent his nose to the ground, and sprang forward upon the trail.
Basil instantly leaped into his saddle; and, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the reins, cried out to his brother,--
"Come, Lucien! we must not lose sight of the dog, though our horses drop dead in their tracks! All depends upon keeping him in view."
Both plied the spur, and dashed forward at a gallop.
"We must know how to find our way back again," said Basil, reining up, as they pa.s.sed the edge of one of the timber clumps. "We must not ourselves get lost;" and, as he said this, he crashed the branch of a tree, until the broken end hung dangling downward. He then resumed his gallop.
For nearly a mile the hound ran in a direct line. It was the first flight of the turkey. His course then altered, although not a great deal, and carried him half a mile or so in a direct line as before.
"The second flight," remarked Basil to his brother, as both followed at a loose gallop, now with their eyes anxiously watching the dog, and now halting a moment by some conspicuous tree to "blaze" their way, by breaking one of its branches.
The dog at length entered a copse.
"Ha!" exclaimed Basil, "Francois has killed his turkey there. No," he continued--as the hound shot out of the copse again, and struck off into the open plain--"no. It has sought shelter there, but it has been run out again, and gone farther."
Marengo now led in a direct line for several hundred paces; when, all at once, he began to double and run in circling courses over the prairie.
"Draw up, Lucien! draw up!" cried Basil, as he pulled upon his bridle-rein. "I know what that means. Do not ride upon the track--you may baffle him--leave him to himself."
In a few seconds the hound stopped, uttered a short howl, and appeared to toss a dark object upon the gra.s.s with his snout. Basil and Lucien had halted at a considerable distance, but they could see that the object was some loose feathers.
"The spot, beyond doubt, where Francois has killed the turkey," muttered Basil. "If Marengo can only catch the trail by which he rode off all may be well; but--that--that--see! he is off again!"
Now was the time that Basil and Lucien watched with beating hearts.
They knew that a crisis was at hand. If Marengo, as Basil said, could find Francois" departing trail, then he could follow it up almost to a certainty. Of this both the brothers were confident, as they knew the capabilities of the dog. But that was the point to be decided; and both felt for the moment as if the life of their brother hung upon its decision. No wonder, then, that they watched every manoeuvre of the hound with breathless anxiety while they sat, motionless and silent, in their saddles.
The hound after a while ran off from the feathers; and was seen once more to double and circle over the ground. He did not go freely. He was evidently baffled by so many trails approaching and crossing each other. Again he came back to the spot where the turkey had been killed, and there paused with a howl of disappointment!
Basil and his brother uttered a simultaneous exclamation, that betokened painful feelings. They knew that the howl was a bad sign; but neither spoke.
Once more the dog ran off, and as before turned and wheeled about upon the prairie.
"O G.o.d!" exclaimed Basil, in agony, "he is coming on the old track!"
It was too true; for the next moment the hound, running on the back-track, bounded in among the feet of their horses. Here he stopped suddenly, throwing up his head, and uttering another howl of disappointment.
Basil waved him back. He struck out again and followed the old trail, but with like success. He then became confused, and ran every way over the ground, evidently baffled. The brothers regarded each other with looks of dismay. _The trail was lost_!
"Hold! There is hope yet," said Basil. "We may find it by making a wider circuit. Take my bridle," continued he, throwing himself from his horse. "Marengo!--up, Marengo!"
The dog obeyed the call, uttered in accents of command; and came running up to the feet of his master. The latter, telling Lucien to follow with the horses, struck off over the prairie.
He walked slowly, bent forward and downward, carefully observing the ground as he went. He followed the circ.u.mference of an irregular circle, of wide diameter--in order to keep outside the doublings which Francois had made in his last struggle after the wearied bird, and which had thrown the dog out. He pa.s.sed several horse-trails leading various ways. All these he examined, but none satisfied him. In this manner he had gone half a mile around the circle, when his eye fell upon some that seemed fresher than the rest. He sprang forward, stooping over them with, a shout of joy, as he recognised the hoof-prints of Francois"
mustang. He knew them by a mark he had taken--where the dog had been first set upon the trail--a small chip broken from one of the fore hoofs. But Marengo needed not this. He was once more on the right scent; and again started off, nose down, over the prairie.
Basil leaped into his saddle; and, waving his brother to follow, galloped after, riding close upon the heels of the hound.