Not all of the searching party leave the place. Two remain, staying as
by stealth. Some time before the departure of the others, these had
slipped aside, and sauntered off several hundred yards, taking their
horses along with them.
Halting in an out-of-the-way spot, under deepest shadow, and then
dismounting, they wait till the crowd shall disperse. To all appearance
impatiently, as if they wanted to have the range of the forest to
themselves, and for some particular reason. Just this do they, or at
least one of them does; making his design known to the other, soon as he
believes himself beyond earshot of those from whom they separated.
It is the elder that instructs; who, in addition to the horse he is
holding, has another animal by his side--a dog. For it is the hunter,
Woodley, still in charge of Clancy's hound.
The man remaining with him is one of his own kind and calling; younger
in years, but, like himself, a professional follower of the chase--by
name, Heywood.
Giving his reason for the step he is taking, Woodley says, "We kin do
nothin' till them greenhorns air gone. Old Dan Boone hisself kedn't
take up trail, wi' sich a noisy clanjamfry aroun him. For myself I
hain't hardly tried, seein' 'twar no use till they'd clar off out o' the
way. And now the darned fools hev' made the thing more diffeequilt,
trampin about, an' blottin' out every shadder o' sign, an everything as
looks like a futmark. For all, I've tuk notice to somethin' none o'
them seed. Soon's the coast is clar we kin go thar, an' gie it a more
pertikler examinashun."
The younger hunter nods assent, adding a word, signifying readiness to
follow his older confrere.
For some minutes they remain; until silence restored throughout the
forest tells them it is forsaken. Then, leaving their horses behind,
with bridles looped around branches--the hound also attached to one of
the stirrups--they go back to the place, where the hat and gun were
found.
They do not stay there; but continue a little farther on, Woodley
leading.
At some twenty paces distance, the old hunter comes to a halt, stopping
by the side of a cypress "knee"; one of those vegetable monstrosities
that perplex the botanist--to this hour scientifically unexplained. In
shape resembling a ham, with the shank end upwards; indeed so like to
this, that the Yankee bacon-curers have been accused, by their southern
customers, of covering them with canvas, and selling them for the real
article!
It may be that the Mississippian backwoodsman, Woodley, could give a
better account of these singular excrescences than all the closet
scientists in the world.
He is not thinking of either science, or his own superior knowledge,
while conducting his companion to the side of that "cypress knee." His
only thought is to show Heywood something he had espied while passing it
in the search; but of which he did not then appear to take notice, and
said nothing, so long as surrounded by the other searchers.
The time has come to scrutinise it more closely, and ascertain if it be
what he suspects it.
The "knee" in question is one which could not be palmed off for a
porker's ham. Its superior dimensions forbid the counterfeit. As the
two hunters halt beside it, its bulk shows bigger than either of their
own bodies, while its top is at the height of their heads.
Standing in front of it, Woodley points to a break in the bark--a round
hole, with edge slightly ragged. The fibre appears freshly cut, and
more than cut--encrimsoned! Twenty-four hours may have elapsed, but not
many more, since that hole was made. So believe the backwoodsmen, soon
as setting their eyes on it.