Chapter Seventy Six. A False Alarm
The significant shout at once put a period to my reflections.
Believing the savages to be in sight, I spurred towards the front. The horsemen had drawn bridle and halted. A few, who had been straggling from the path, hurried up and ranged themselves close to the main body, as if for protection. A few others, who had been riding carelessly in the advance, were seen galloping back. It was from these last the cry of “Indyens” had come, and several of them still continued to repeat it.
“Indyuns?” cried Hickman, interrogatively, and with an air of incredulity. “Whar did ye see them?”
“Yonder,” responded one of the retreating horsemen – “in yon clump o’ live-oaks. It’s full o’ them.”
“I’ll be dog-goned if I believe it,” rejoined the old hunter, with a contemptuous toss of the head. “I’ll lay a plug o’ Jeemes’s River, it war stumps yez seed! Indyuns don’t show ’emselves in timmer like this hyar – specially to sech verdunts as you. Ye’ll hear ’em afore you see ’em, I kalklate.”
“But we did hear them,” replied one, “we heard them calling out to one another.”
“Bah!” exclaimed the hunter; “y’ull hear ’em different from that, I guess, when you gets near enough. It’ll be the spang o’ thar rifles y’ull hear fust thing. Dog-gone the Indyun’s thar. Twar a coon or a cat-bird ye’ve heern a screamin’! I know’d ye’d make a scamper the fust thing as flittered afore ye.”
“Stay whar yez are now,” he added in a tone of authority, “jest stay whar yez are a bit.”
So saying, he slipped down from his saddle, and commenced hitching his bridle to a branch.
“Come, Jim Weatherford,” he said, addressing himself to his hunter comrade, “you come along – we’ll see whether it be Indyuns or stumps thet’s gin these fellows sech a dog-goned scare.”
Weatherford, anticipating the request, had already dropped to the ground; and the two having secured their horses, rifle in hand, slunk silently off into the bushes.
The rest of the party, gathering still more closely together, remained in their saddles to await the result.
There was but slight trial upon their patience; for the two pioneers were scarce out of sight, when we heard their voices ringing together in loud peals of laughter.
This encouraged us to advance. Where there was so much merriment there could be but little danger; and, without waiting for the return of the scouts, we rode forwards, directing our course by their continued cachinnations.
An opening brought both of them into view; Weatherford was gazing downwards, as if examining some tracks; while Hickman, who saw us coming up, stood with extended arm, pointing toward the straggling woods that lay beyond.
We turned our eyes in the direction indicated. We observed a number of half-wild, horned cattle, that, startled by the trampling of our troops, were scampering off among the trees.
“Now,” cried the hunter, triumphantly; “thar’s yur Indyuns! Ain’t they a savage consarn? Ha! ha! ha!”
Every one joined in the laugh except those who had given the false alarm.
“I know’d thar war no Indyuns,” continued the alligator-hunter. “That ain’t the way they’ll make thar appearance. Yu’ll hear ’em afore you sees ’em; an’ jest one word o’ advice to you greenhorns – as don’t know a red Indyun from a red cow – let somebody as diz know, go in the devance, an’ the rest o’ ye keep well togither; or I’ll stake high on’t thet some o’ yez ’ll sleep the night ’ithout har on yur heads.”
All acknowledged that Hickman’s advice was sage and sound. The hint was taken, and leaving the two old hunters henceforth to lead the pursuit, the rest drew more closely together, and followed them along the trail.
The plan adopted in this instance, was that followed in all well-devised tracking parties when in pursuit of an enemy. It matters not of what elements the body is composed – be it naval, military or civilian – be there present, commodores, generals or governors – all yield the pas to some old hunter or scout, who follows the trail like a sleuth hound, and whose word is supreme law for the nonce.
It was evident the pursued party could not be far in advance of us. This we knew from the hour at which they had been seen retreating from the settlement. After my arrival on the plantation, no time had been lost – only ten minutes spent in preparation – and altogether there was scarce an hour’s difference between the times of our starting. The fresh trail confirmed the fact – they could not be a league ahead of us, unless they had ridden faster than we. This was scarce probable, encumbered as they were with their black captives, whose larger tracks, here and there distinctly perceptible, showed that they were marching afoot. Of course, the savage horsemen would be detained in getting them forwards; and in this lay our main hope of overtaking them.
There were but few who feared for the result, should we only be able to come up with the enemy. The white men were full of wrath and revenge, and this precluded all thoughts of fear. Besides, we could tell by their trail that the Indians scarce outnumbered us. Not above fifty appeared to constitute the band. No doubt they were able warriors, and our equals man to man; but those who had volunteered to assist me were also the “true grit” – the best men of the settlement for such a purpose.
No one talked of going back. All declared their readiness to follow the murderers even to the heart of the Indian territory – even into the “Cove” itself.
The devotion of these men cheered me; and I rode forwards with lighter heart – lighter with the prospect of vengeance, which I believed to be near.