We were in perfect accord as to our course of action, as in our
thoughts. If our motives were not similar, our enemy was the same.
Only was there a difference in our prospective designs. Love was the
lure that beckoned me on; Wingrove was led by revenge. To follow _him_,
and punish guilt, was the _metier_ of my companion; to follow _her_, and
rescue innocence, was the _role_ cast for me. Though guided by two such
different passions, both were of the strongest of our nature--either
sufficient to stimulate to the most earnest action; and without loss of
time, we entered upon it in full determination to succeed. I had
already formed the design of pursuit; and perhaps it was with the hope
of obtaining an associate and companion, that I had sought an interview
with the hunter. At all events, this had been my leading idea. His
expressed determination, therefore, was but the echo of my wish. It
only remained for us to mould our design into a proper and practicable
form.
Though not much older than my new comrade, there were some things in
which I had the advantage of him. I was his superior in experience. He
acknowledged it with all deference, and permitted my counsels to take
the lead. The exercise of partisan warfare--especially that practised
on the Mexican and Indian frontiers--is a school scarcely equalled for
training the mind to coolness and self-reliance. An experience thus
obtained, had given mine such a cast; and taught me, by many a
well-remembered lesson, the truthfulness of that wise saw; "The more
haste the less speed." Instead, therefore of rushing at once _in medias
res_, and starting forth, without knowing whither to go, my counsel was
that we should act with caution; and adopt some definite plan of
pursuit. It was not the suggestion of my heart, but rather of my head.
Had I obeyed the promptings of the former, I should have been in the
saddle, hours before, and galloping somewhere in a westerly direction--
perhaps to find, at the end of a long journey only disappointment, and
the infallibility of the adage.
Taking counsel from my reason, I advised a different course of action;
and my comrade--whose head for his age was a cool one--agreed to follow
my advice. Indeed, he had far less motive for haste than I. Revenge
would keep, and could be slept upon; while with emotions such as mine, a
quiet heart was out of the question. She whom I loved was not only in
danger of being lost to me for ever, but in danger of becoming the
victim of a dastard _coquin_--diabolic as dastard! Suffering under the
sting of such a fearful apprehension, it required me to exert all the
self-restraining power of which I was possessed. Had I but known _where
to go_, I should have rushed to horse, and ridden on upon the instant.
Not knowing, I was fortunately possessed of sufficient prudence to
restrain myself from the idle attempt.
That Holt and his daughter were gone, and in company with the Mormon, we
knew: the letter told that. That they had left the cabin was equally
known; but whether they were yet clear off from the neighbourhood, was
still uncertain; and to ascertain this, was the first thing to be
accomplished. If still within the boundaries of the settlement, or upon
any of the roads leading from it, there would be a chance of
_overtaking_ them. But what after that? Ah! beyond that I did not
trust myself to speculate. I dared not discuss the future. I refrained
from casting even a glance into its horoscope--so dark did it appear. I
had but little hope that they were anywhere within reach. That phrase
of fatal prophecy, "You will be too late--too late!" still rang in my
ears. It had a fuller meaning than might appear, from a hasty
interpretation of it. Had not it also a figurative application? and did
it not signify I should be too late _in every sense_?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
At what time had they taken their departure? By what route? and upon
what road? These were the points to be ascertained; and our only hope
of obtaining a clue to them was by proceeding to the place of departure
itself--the deserted dwelling. Thither we hied in all haste--prepared,
if need be, for a more distant expedition. On entering the enclosure,
we dismounted, and at once set about examining the "sign." My companion
passed to and fro, like a pointer in pursuit of a partridge. I had
hoped we might trace them by the tracks; but this hope was abandoned, on
perceiving that the rain had obliterated every index of this kind. Even
the hoof-prints of my own horse--made but an hour before--were washed
full of mud, and scarcely traceable.
Had they gone upon horseback? It was not probable: the house-utensils
could hardly have been transported that way? Nor yet could they have
removed them in a wagon? No road for wheels ran within miles of the
clearing--that to Swampville, as already stated, being no more than a
bridle-path; while the other "traces," leading up and down the creek,
were equally unavailable for the passage of a wheeled vehicle.
There was but one conclusion to which we could come; and indeed we
arrived at it without much delay: they had gone off in a canoe. It was
clear as words or eye-witnesses could have made it. Wingrove well knew
the craft. It was known as Holt's "dug-out;" and was occasionally used
as a ferry-boat, to transport across the creek such stray travellers as
passed that way. It was sufficiently large to carry several at once--
large enough for the purpose of a removal. The mode of their departure
was the worst feature in the case; for, although we had been already
suspecting it, we had still some doubts. Had they gone off in any other
way, there would have been a possibility of tracking them. But a
_conge_ in a canoe was a very different affair: man's presence leaves no
token upon the water: like a bubble or a drop of rain, his traces vanish
from the surface, or sink into the depths of the subtle element--an
emblem of his own vain nothingness!