The trappers were not among those who had rescued me--where were they?
The others made answer, though I already guessed what they had to tell.
Rube and Garey had followed the tracks of the steed, leaving the rangers
to come after me.
I was pleased with the ready intelligence of my comrades: they had acted
exactly as they should have done. I was myself found, and I no longer
entertained any apprehension that the trail would be lost.
By this time, the trackers must be far upon it; more than an hour had
elapsed since they and the others had parted company. My zigzag path
had cost my followers many a bewildering pause.
But they had not ridden recklessly as I, and could find their way back.
As it was impossible to tell in what direction Rube and Garey had gone,
this course was the best to be followed; and under the guidance of
Stanfield--an expert woodsman--we rode back towards the prairie.
It was not necessary to retrace our own crooked trail. The Kentuckian
had noted the "lay" of the chapparal, and led us out of its labyrinths
by an almost direct path.
On reaching the open ground, we made no pause; but upon the tracks of
Rube, Garey, and the steed, re-entered the chapparal.
We had no difficulty about our course; it was plainly traced out for us;
the trappers had "blazed" it. In most places, the tracks of the three
horses were sufficient indices of the route; but there were stretches
where the ground was stony, and upon the parched arid herbage, even the
shod hoof left no visible mark. In such places, a branch of acacia
broken and pendulous, the bent flower-stem of an aloe, or the succulent
leaves of the cactus slashed with a sharp knife, were conspicuous and
unmistakeable signs; and by the guidance of these we made rapid advance.
We must have gone much faster than the trackers themselves--for
notwithstanding the freshness of the trail, there were dry spots and
patches of cut rock over which it passed, and where it must have cost
them both time and keen perception to trace it.
As we were travelling so much more rapidly than Rube and Garey could
have done, I looked forward to our soon overtaking them: with eager
anticipation, I looked forward. Surely they would have some news for
me, now that they had been so long in the advance? Surely by this time
they must have come in sight of the steed?--perhaps captured him? Oh,
joyous anticipation!
Or would they return with a different tale? Was I to meet the report
that he still hurried on--on for ever? That he had swum some rapid
stream? or plunged over a precipice--into some dark abysm?
Though hastening on after the trackers, there were moments when I feared
to overtake them--moments when I dreaded to hear their tale!
We had worked our way about five miles through the hideous jungle, when
I began to feel a strange sensation in my eyes--a sensation of pain--
what is usually termed a "smarting." I at first attributed it to the
want of sleep.
My companions complained that they were affected in a similar manner.
It was not until we had gone some distance farther, that we found the
true explanation--on perceiving that there was _smoke in the air_!
Smoke it was that was causing the bitterness in our eyes.
The denizen of the prairie never regards such an indication with
indifference. Where there is smoke, there is fire, and where fire,
danger--at least upon the broad grassy steppes of the west. A burning
forest may be shunned. You may stand near a forest on fire, and
contemplate such a scene with safety; but a blazing prairie is a
phenomenon of a different character; and it is indeed a rare position
where you may view, without peril, this sublime spectacle.
There are prairies that will not burn. The plains covered with the
short "buffalo-grass" (_sesleria dactyloides_), and the sward of various
species of "gramma" (_chondrosium_), rarely take fire; or if they do,
horse, man, buffalo, or antelope, can easily escape by leaping across
the blaze. 'Tis only the reptile world--snakes, lizards, the toad, and
the land-turtle (_terrapin_)--that fall victims to such a flame.
Not so upon the "weed-prairies," or those where the tall reed-grass
rises above the withers of a horse--its culms matted and laced together
by the trailing stems of various species of bindweed, by creeping
convolvulus, cucurbitacese, and wild pea-vines. In the dry season, when
a fire lays its hold upon vegetation of this character, there is danger
indeed--where it rages, there is death.
It was smoke that affected our eyes, causing them to wince and water.
Fire must be causing the smoke--what was on fire?
I could detect apprehension in the looks of my followers, as we rode on.
It was but slight, for as yet the smoke was scarcely perceptible, and
the fire, wherever it was, must be distant--so fancied we.
As we advanced, the glances of the men became more uneasy. Beyond a
doubt, the smoke was thickening around us, the sky was fast becoming
darker, and the pain in our eyes more acute.
"The woods are on fire," said Stanfield.