Leaving Aurore among the palmettoes. I ran directly forward to the
fence, which was also the boundary of the woods. On reaching this, I
grasped the branch of a tree, and swung myself up to such an elevation
as would enable me to see over the tops of the cane. This gave me a
full view of the house shining under the sun that had now risen in all
his splendour.
At a glance I saw that I had guessed aright. Distant as the house was,
I could plainly see men around it, many of them on horseback. Their
heads were moving above the canes; and now and then the deep bay of
hounds told that several dogs were loose about the enclosure. The scene
was just as if a party of hunters had assembled before going out upon a
deer "drive;" and but for the place, the time, and the circumstances
that had already transpired, I might have taken it for such. Far
different, however, was the impression it made upon me. I knew well why
was that gathering around the house of Gayarre. I knew well the game
they were about to pursue. I lingered but a moment upon my perch--long
enough to perceive that the _hunters_ were all mounted and ready to
start.
With quick-beating pulse I retraced my steps; and soon rejoined my
companion, who stood awaiting me with trembling apprehension.
I did not need to tell her the result of my reconnoissance: she read it
in my looks. She, too, had heard the baying of the dogs. She was a
native, and knew the customs of the land: she knew that hounds were used
to hunt deer and foxes and wild-cats of the woods; but she knew also
that on many plantations there were some kept for a far different
purpose--sleuth-dogs, _trained to the hunting of men_!
Had she been of slow comprehension, I might have attempted to conceal
from her what I had learnt; but she was far from that, and with quick
instinct she divined all.
Our first feeling was that of utter hopelessness. There seemed no
chance of our escaping. Go where we would, hounds, trained to the scent
of a human track, could not fail to follow and find us. It would be of
no use hiding in the swamp or the bush. The tallest sedge or the
thickest underwood could not give us shelter from pursuers like these.
Our first feeling, then, was that of hopelessness--quickly followed by a
half-formed resolve to go no farther, to stand our ground and be taken.
We had not death to fear; though I knew that if taken I might make up my
mind to some rough handling. I knew the feeling that was abroad in
relation to the Abolitionists--at that time raging like a fever. I had
heard of the barbarous treatment which some of these "fanatics"--as they
were called--had experienced at the hands of the incensed slave-owners.
I should no doubt be reckoned in the same category, or maybe, still
worse, be charged as a "nigger-stealer." In any case I had to fear
chastisement, and of no light kind either.
But my dread of this was nothing when compared with the reflection that,
if taken, _Aurore must go back to Gayarre_!
It was this thought more than any other that made my pulse beat quickly.
It was this thought that determined me not to surrender until after
every effort to escape should fail us.
I stood for some moments pondering on what course to pursue. All at
once a thought came into my mind that saved me from despair. That
thought was of Gabriel the runaway.
Do not imagine that I had forgotten him or his hiding-place all this
time. Do not fancy I had not thought of him before. Often, since we
had entered the woods, had he and his tree-cave arisen in my memory; and
I should have gone there for concealment, but that the distance deterred
me. As we intended to return to the Levee Road after sunset, I had
chosen the glade for our resting-place, on account of its being nearer.
Even then, when I learnt that hounds would be after us, I had again
thought of making for the Bambarra's hiding-place; but had dismissed the
idea, because it occurred to me that _the hounds could follow us
anywhere_, and that, by taking shelter with the runaway, we should only
guide his tyrants upon _him_.
So quick and confused had been all these reflections, that it had never
occurred to me that the hounds _could not trail us across water_. It
was only at that moment when pondering how I could throw them off the
track--thinking of the snake-charmer and his pine-cones--that I
remembered the water.
Sure enough, in that still lay a hope; and I could now appreciate the
remarkable cunning with which the lair of the runaway had been chosen.
It was just the place to seek refuge from "de dam blood-dogs."
The moment I thought of it, I resolved to flee thither.
I would be sure to know the way. I had taken especial pains to remember
it; for even on the day of my snake-adventure, some half-defined
thoughts--something more like a presentiment than a plan--had passed
through my mind, vaguely pointing to a contingency like the present.
Later events, and particularly my design of escaping to the city at
once, had driven these thoughts out of my mind. For all that, I still
remembered the way by which the Bambarra had guided me, and could follow
it with hurried steps--though there was neither road nor path, save the
devious tracks made by cattle or the wild animals of the forest.
But I was certain I knew it well. I should remember the signs and
"blazes" to which the guide had called my attention. I should remember
where it crossed the "big bayou" by the trunk of a fallen tree that
served as a foot-bridge. I should remember where it ran through a strip
of marsh impassable for horses, through the cane-brake, among the great
knees and buttocks of the cypresses, down to the edge of the water. And
that huge tree, with its prostrate trunk projecting out into the lake,
and its moss-wrapped branches--that cunning harbour for the little
pirogue--I should be sure to remember.
Neither had I forgotten the signal, by which I was to warn the runaway
whenever I should return. It was a peculiar whistle he had instructed
me to give, and also the number of times I was to utter it.
I had not waited for all these reflections. Many of them were
after-thoughts, that occurred along the way. The moment I remembered
the lake, I resolved upon my course; and, with a word of cheer to my
companion, we again moved forward.