The lightning continued to play at intervals, and we had no difficulty
in finding our way. We recrossed near the same place where we had
entered the field; and, guiding ourselves along the fence, hurried on
towards the thicket of pawpaws, where we had left our horses.
My design was to take to the road at once, and endeavour to reach the
city before daybreak. Once there, I hoped to be able to keep
concealed--both myself and my betrothed--until some opportunity offered
of getting out to sea, or up the river to one of the free states. I
never thought of taking to the woods. Chance had made me acquainted
with a rare hiding-place, and no doubt we might have found concealment
there for a time. The advantage of this had crossed my mind, but I did
not entertain the idea for a moment. Such a refuge could be but
temporary. We should have to flee from it in the end, and the
difficulty of escaping from the country would be as great as ever.
Either for victim or criminal there is no place of concealment so safe
as the crowded haunts of the populous city; and in New Orleans--half of
which consists of a "floating" population--incognito is especially
easily to be preserved.
My design, therefore--and D'Hauteville approved it--was to mount our
horses, and make direct for the city.
Hard work I had cut out for our poor animals, especially the one that
should have to "carry double." Tough hacks they were, and had done the
journey up cleverly enough, but it would stretch all their muscle to
take us back before daylight.
Aided by the flashes, we wound our way, amid the trunks of the trees,
until at length we came within sight of the pawpaw thicket--easily
distinguished by the large oblong leaves of the _asiminiers_, which had
a whitish sheen under the electric light. We hurried forward with
joyful anticipation. Once mounted, we should soon get beyond the reach
of pursuit.
"Strange the horses do not neigh, or give some sign of their presence!
One would have thought our approach would have startled them. But no,
there is no whimper, no hoof-stroke; yet we must be close to them now.
I never knew of horses remaining so still? What can they be doing?
Where are they?"
"Ay, where are they?" echoed D'Hauteville; "surely this is the spot
where we left them?"
"Here it certainly was! Yes--here--this is the very sapling to which I
fastened my bridle. See! here are their hoof-prints. By Heaven! the
_horses are gone_!"
I uttered this with a full conviction of its truth. There was no room
left for doubt. There was the trampled earth where they had stood--
there the very tree to which we had tied them. I easily recognised it--
for it was the largest in the grove.
Who had taken them away? This was the question that first occurred to
us. Some one had been dogging us? Or had it been some one who had come
across the animals by accident? The latter supposition was the less
probable. Who would have been wandering in the woods on such a night?
or even if any one had, what would have taken them into the pawpaw
thicket? Ha! a new thought came into my head--perhaps the horses had
got loose of themselves?
That was likely enough. Well, we should be able to tell as soon as the
lightning flashed again, whether they had set themselves free; or
whether some human hand had undone the knotted bridles. We stood by the
tree waiting for the light. It did not tarry long; and when it came it
enabled us to solve the doubt. My conjecture was correct; the horses
had freed themselves. The broken branches told the tale. Something--
the lightning--or more likely a prowling wild beast, had _stampeded_
them; and they had broken off into the woods.
We now reproached ourselves for having so negligently fastened them--for
having tied them to a branch of the _asiminier_, whose soft succulent
wood possesses scarcely the toughness of an ordinary herbaceous plant.
I was rather pleased at the discovery that the animals had freed
themselves. There was a hope they had not strayed far. We might yet
find them near at hand, with trailing bridles, cropping the grass.
Without loss of time we went in search of them--D'Hauteville took one
direction, I another, while Aurore remained in the thicket of the
pawpaws.
I ranged around the neighbourhood, went back to the fence, followed it
to the road, and even went some distance along the road. I searched
every nook among the trees, pushed through thickets and cane-brakes,
and, whenever it flashed, examined the ground for tracks. At intervals
I returned to the point of starting, to find that D'Hauteville had been
equally unsuccessful.
After nearly an hour spent in this fruitless search, I resolved to give
it up. I had no longer a hope of finding the horses; and, with
despairing step, I turned once more in the direction of the thicket.
D'Hauteville had arrived before me.
As I approached, the quivering gleam enabled me to distinguish his
figure. He was standing beside Aurore. He was conversing familiarly
with her. I fancied he was _polite_ to her, and that she seemed
pleased. There was something in this slight scene that made a painful
impression upon me.
Neither had he found any traces of the missing steeds. It was no use
looking any longer for them; and we agreed to discontinue the search,
and pass the night in the woods.
It was with a heavy heart that I consented to this; but we had no
alternative. Afoot we could not possibly reach New Orleans before
morning; and to have been found on the road after daybreak would have
insured our capture. Such as we could not pass without observation; and
I had no doubt that, at the earliest hour, a pursuing party would take
the road to the city.
Our most prudent plan was to remain all night where we were, and renew
our search for the horses as soon as it became day. If we should
succeed in finding them, we might conceal them in the swamp till the
following night, and then make for the city. If we should not recover
them, then, by starting at an earlier hour, we might attempt the journey
on foot.
The loss of the horses had placed us in an unexpected dilemma. It had
seriously diminished our chances of escape, and increased the peril of
our position.
_Peril_ I have said, and in such we stood--peril of no trifling kind.
You will with difficulty comprehend the nature of our situation. You
will imagine yourself reading the account of some ordinary lover's
escapade--a mere runaway match, _a la Gretna Green_.
Rid yourself of this fancy. Know that all three of us had committed an
act for which we were amenable. Know that my _crime_ rendered me liable
to certain and severe punishment by the _laws of the land_; that a still
more terrible sentence might be feared _outside the laws of the land_.
I knew all this--I knew that life itself was imperilled by the act I had
committed!
Think of our danger, and it may enable you to form some idea of what
were our feelings after returning from our bootless hunt after the
horses.
We had no choice but stay where we were till morning.
We spent half-an-hour in dragging the _tillandsia_ from the trees, and
collecting the soft leaves of the pawpaws. With these I strewed the
ground; and, placing Aurore upon it, I covered her with my cloak.
For myself I needed no couch. I sat down near my beloved, with my back
against the trunk of a tree. I would fain have pillowed her head upon
my breast, but the presence of D'Hauteville restrained me. Even that
might not have hindered me, but the slight proposal which I made had
been declined by Aurore. Even the hand that I had taken in mine was
respectfully withdrawn!