At intervals the guides were at fault; and then the whole line was
forced to halt and remain motionless. Several times both Hickman and
Weatherford were puzzled as to the direction they should take. They had
lost the points of the compass, and were bewildered.
Had there been light, they could have recovered this knowledge by
observing the bark upon the trees--a craft well-known to the backwoods
hunter--but it was too dark to make such an observation. Even amidst
the darkness, Hickman alleged he could tell north from south by the
"feel" of the bark: and for this purpose I now saw him groping against
the trunks. I noticed that he passed from one to another, trying
several of them, the better to confirm his observations.
After carrying on these singular manoeuvres for a period of several
minutes, he turned to his comrade with an exclamation that betokened
surprise:--
"Dog-gone my cats, Jim," said he, speaking in an undertone, "these woods
are altered since you and I war hyar--what the ole scratch kin be the
matter wi' 'em? The bark's all peeled off and thar as dry as punk."
"I was thinkin' they had a kewrious look," replied the other, "but I
s'posed it was the darkness o' the night."
"Neer a bit of it--the trees is altered someways, since we war hyar
afore! They are broom pines--that I recollect well enough--let's git a
bunch o' the leaves, and see how they looks."
Saying this, he reached his hand upwards, and plucked one of the long
fascicles that drooped overhead.
"Ugh!" continued he, crushing the needles between his fingers, "I see
how it are now. The darnationed moths has been at 'em--the trees are
dead.
"D'yer think thar all dead?" he inquired after a pause, and then
advancing a little, he proceeded to examine some others.
"Dead as durnation!--every tree o' 'em--wal! we must go by guess-work--
thar's no help for it, boys. Ole Hick kin guide you no furrer. I'm
dead beat, and know no more 'bout the direkshun o' that ere pond, than
the greenest greenhorn among ye."
This acknowledgment produced no very pleasant effect. Thirst was
torturing all those who heard it. Hitherto, trusting that the skill of
the hunters would enable them to find water, they had sustained it with
a degree of patience. It was now felt more acutely than ever.
"Stay," said Hickman, after a few moments had elapsed. "All's not lost
that's in danger. If I arn't able to guide ye to the pond, I reckon
I've got a critter as kin. Kin you, ole hoss?" he continued, addressing
himself to the animal he bestrode--a wiry old jade that Hickman had long
been master of--"kin you find the water? Gee up, ole beeswax! and let's
see if you kin."
Giving his "critter" a kick in the ribs, and at the same time full
freedom of the bridle, he once more started forwards among the trees.
We all followed as before, building fresh hopes upon the instinct of the
animal.
Surely the pride of man ought to be somewhat abased, when he reflects,
that he, "the lord of the creation," is oftentimes foiled in attempts
which, by the mere instincts of the lower animals, are of easy
accomplishment. What a lesson of humility this ought to teach to the
wanton and cruel oppressor of those noble animals, whose strength, and
instinct, and endurance, are all made subservient to his comfort. It is
in the hour of danger and peril alone, that man realises his dependence
upon agencies other than his own lordly will.
We had not proceeded far, when it became known that Hickman's horse had
got scent of the water. His owner alleged that he "smelt" it, and the
latter knew this, as well as if it had been one of his hounds taking up
the trail of a deer.
The horse actually exhibited signs of such an intelligence. His muzzle
was protruded forwards, and now and then he was heard to sniff the air;
while, at the same time, he walked forward in a direct line--as if
making for some object. Surely he was heading for water. Such was the
belief.
It produced a cheering effect, and the men were now advancing in better
spirits, when, to their surprise, Hickman suddenly drew up, and halted
the line I rode forward to him to inquire the cause. I found him silent
and apparently reflective.
"Why have you stopped?" I inquired.
"You must all o' ye wait here a bit."
"Why must we?" demanded several, who had pressed along side.
"'Taint safe for us to go forrad this way; I've got a idea that them red
skins is by the pond--they've camped there for sartin--it's the only
water that is about hyar; and its devilitch like that thar they've
rendevoozed an' camped. If that be the case, an' we ride forrad in this
fashion, they'll hear us a-comin' an' be off agin into the bushes, whar
we'll see no more o' them. Ain't that like enough, fellers?"
This interrogatory was answered in the affirmative.
"Wal then," continued the guide; "better for yous all to stay hyar,
while me and Jim Weatherford goes forrad to see if the Indyuns is thar.
We kin find the pond now. I know whar it lies by the direkshun the hoss
war taken. It aint fur off. If the red skins aint thar, we'll soon be
back, an' then ye kin all come on as fast as ye like."
This prudent course was willingly agreed to, and the two hunters, once
more dismounting, stole forwards afoot. They made no objection to my
going along with them. My misfortunes gave me a claim to be their
leader; and, leaving my bridle in the hands of one of my companions, I
accompanied the guides upon their errand.
We walked with noiseless tread. The ground was thickly covered with the
long needles of the pine, forming a soft bed, upon which the footstep
made no sound. There was little or no underwood, and this enabled us to
advance with rapidity, and in a few minutes we were a long way from the
party we had left behind.
Our only care was about keeping the right direction, and this we had
almost lost--or believed so--when, to our astonishment we beheld a light
shining through the trees. It was the gleam of a fire that appeared to
be blazing freely. Hickman at once pronounced it the camp fire of the
Indians.
At first we thought of returning, and bringing on our comrades to the
attack; but upon reflection, we determined to approach nearer the fire,
and make certain whether it was the enemy's camp.
We advanced no longer in erect attitudes; but crawling upon our hands
and knees. Wherever the glare penetrated the woods, we avoided it, and
kept under the shadow of the tree-trunks. The fire burned in the midst
of an opening. The hunters remembered that the pond was so placed; and
now observing the sheen of water, we knew it must be the same.
We drew nearer and nearer, until it was no longer safe to advance. We
were close to the edge of the timber that concealed us. We could see
the whole surface of the open ground. There were horses picketed over
it, and dark forms recumbent under the fire light. They were murderers
asleep.
Close to the fire, one was seated upon a saddle. He appeared to be
awake, though his head was drooped to the level of his knees. The blaze
was shining upon this man's face; and both his features and complexion
might have been seen, but for the interposition of paint and plumes.
The face appeared of a crimson red, and three black ostrich feathers,
bending over the brow, hung straggling down his cheeks. These plumed
symbols produced painful recognition. I knew that it was the head-dress
of Osceola.
I looked further. Several groups were beyond--in fact, the whole open
space was crowded with prostrate human forms.
There was one group, however, that fixed my attention. It consisted of
three or four individuals, seated or reclining along the grass. They
were in shade, and from our position, their features could not be
recognised; but their white dresses, and the outlines of their forms,
soft even in the obscurity of the shadow, told that they were females.
Two of them were side by side, a little apart from the others; one
appeared to be supporting the other, whose head rested in her lap.
With emotions fearfully vivid, I gazed on these two forms. I had no
doubt they were Viola and my sister.