OUR STRATAGEM.
I have always thought that, next to a hunting-horn, there is no music in
the world equal to that of a pack of staunch hounds in full cry, nor a
prettier sight to be seen than they present while flying over the
ground, almost with the rapidity of thought.
How the deep-toned bays echo and re-echo through the woods, until it
seems as if the bushes were fairly alive with the excited animal! How
easily they bound along, and how your heart swells within you, as you
sit on your good horse, with your trusty double-barrel in your hands,
waiting for the game to break cover!
This is grand and inspiring under certain circumstances; but if you are
the hunted instead of the hunter, and those hounds are on your track,
and you have nothing but a couple of loads of buckshot and your own
lightness of foot to depend upon, the case is very different. There is
not so much music in their baying then, by any means, and you do not see
any thing about them to admire.
I trembled with alarm as I gazed back at the savage brutes. Their long
bounds were rapidly lessening the distance between us, and I saw that it
was high time I was doing something. Raising my gun to my shoulder, I
fired with both barrels in quick succession, and when the smoke cleared
away, I saw that there were four hounds less in that pack.
Growler and Nero, the ones at which I had aimed, were lying on the
ground, stone dead, and two others were badly wounded.
Luke Redman and his boys yelled with rage when they witnessed the effect
of my shots, and shouted after us threats that made my blood run cold.
“Never mind them!” exclaimed Tom, snatching the empty gun and handing me
the other. “Keep it up. Show them that we are in earnest.”
The hounds were thrown into great confusion by the havoc the buckshot
made in their ranks, and I knew that they would not again take up their
trail until urged on by their masters.
I leveled my gun a second time, but now the muzzle was turned toward
Pete and his companions, who were rushing recklessly forward, expecting,
no doubt, to capture us very easily. They stopped when they found
themselves confronted by the double-barrel, and Pete began shouting some
orders in his native tongue to his followers, who turned and ran back to
their horses.
We did not wait to see what they were going to do, for, having by this
time reached the cane-brake, we dashed into it, and quickly left our
enemies out of sight.
Have you ever seen a cane-brake? If you have not, I am afraid I can give
you but a poor idea of one. Imagine, if you can, a tract of country
covered with ordinary fishing-rods, such as you city boys buy in the
variety stores, at a shilling apiece, standing as closely together as
the hair on a dog’s back, and growing to the height of twelve and
fourteen feet.
If you can imagine this, you will know pretty nearly how a cane-brake
looks; but you can not understand what an excellent hiding-place it is.
One might walk by within two feet without discovering you; and more than
that, he could not follow the trail you made in going in, for, as fast
as you pass the cane, it closes up behind you.
The one in which we had taken refuge, did not cover more than a dozen
acres; and yet, had it not been for the hounds, Luke Redman and his
whole gang might have searched for us during the rest of the week, and
they would never have found us.
“Now, Joe,” whispered Tom, as he began to load the gun I had fired at
the hounds, “I have another foolhardy plan to propose. We’ll watch our
chance to get back to the house, and climb up the grape-vine to our
prison again. What do you think of it?”
“I think I won’t do it,” I replied, completely astounded at the
proposition. “We might as well have stayed there in the first place.”
“Oh, no!” replied my companion. “We are much better off now than we were
before, because we’ve got the money, and a couple of guns with which to
defend ourselves if we are crowded to the wall.”
“Well, I am safe out of there now, and I’ll never go back if I can help
it. That’s the most stupid plan I ever heard of.”
“I can convince you in less than a minute that it will be the very best
thing we can do,” said Tom, confidently. “We are not going to stay here
in the cane, to be hunted down like a couple of wolves that have been
robbing a sheep-pen; and if we attempt to leave the island, we shall
give the dogs a fair chance at us. The woods on the other side of the
bayou are open, and there’s no cane to hide in. Listen! Those fellows
have just found out that their guns are gone.”
If that was the case, they must have been very angry over the discovery,
for such an uproar I never heard before. Luke Redman was shouting out
some orders, to which no one seemed to pay the least attention; the
Indians were talking loudly with one another; the uninjured hounds kept
up a furious barking, and the wounded ones joined in the chorus with
continuous yelps and growls.
Although we could not see our enemies, our ears told us just what was
going on.
“Silence!” roared Luke Redman, at length. “If you don’t hush up that
noise—the hull on you—I’ll knock some o’ you down. Barney, kick half a
dozen of them dogs. Jump into your saddles, an’ ride fur the bayou as
fast as your horses can carry you. If they have crossed to the mainland,
it’s all right; we’ll ketch ’em easy. If they haven’t, they are still in
this cane-brake, an’ it won’t take us long to hunt ’em out. If Tommy
thinks he is goin’ to slip off with that ar’ carpet-sack, he’ll be the
wust-fooled boy you ever seed.”
Before Luke had ceased speaking, the sound of horses’ hoofs came to our
ears, telling us that some of his followers were starting out to obey
his commands.
The whole gang rode rapidly down the path by which Tom and I had been
conducted to the house, and which ran through the cane not more than
twenty feet from our hiding-place. In a few minutes more they were
galloping up and down the bayou, searching for our trail.
“We had better be moving now,” said Tom, shouldering his gun, and
picking up the valise. “They’ll soon find out that we have not crossed
the bayou, and then they’ll be back. The house is the safest place for
us.”
Since Tom first proposed this plan I had been thinking it over, and was
now ready to agree to it.
As things stood there was but one way to leave the island, and that was
to cross to the opposite side, and swim the bayou. We might thus succeed
in getting the start of our enemies by half a mile or more; but what
would that amount to while they were on horse-back and we on foot? As
Tom had said, the woods on the main land were open; there was no cane to
hide in, and the dogs could see us a long distance. There were still a
dozen or more of these savage brutes in the pack, and although we might
dispose of half of them by a volley from our double-barrels, the others
would be upon us before we could load again.
If we returned to our prison, we could barricade the doors, and bid
defiance to Luke Redman and his gang. Our friends would certainly reach
the island before dark—we had no fears but that they could follow our
trail, in spite of the robber’s efforts to throw them off the scent, and
we could hold our enemies at bay until they arrived.
I thought that a much better plan than running a race through the woods
with a pack of hounds, and when Tom started for the house, I followed
him.