It cost us a fatiguing ride of nearly twelve hours' duration--most of it
along by-roads and bridle-paths--at intervals passing through tracts of
swampy soil, where our horses sank to the saddle-girths in mud. We rode
continuously: stopping only once to recruit our horses at one of the
"stands," or isolated log hostelries--which are found upon the old
"traces" connecting the sparse settlements of the backwoods. It was the
only one we saw upon our route; and at it we remained no longer than was
absolutely necessary to rest our wearied steeds, and put them in a
condition for the completion of the journey. We knew the necessity of
haste. Our only hope lay in being able to reach the mouth of the Obion
before the canoe could pass out of it. Otherwise, our journey would be
in vain; and we should not only have our long ride for nothing, but
would be under the necessity of doubling the distance by riding back
again.
Along the route we found time to discuss the circumstances--both those
in our favour and against us. The water-way taken by the canoe was far
from being direct. Both the creek and the larger stream curved
repeatedly in their courses; and in ordinary times were of sluggish
current. The freshet, however, produced by the late rain-storm, had
rendered it swifter than common; and we knew that the canoe would be
carried down with considerable rapidity--faster than we were travelling
on horseback. On such roads, for so great a distance, fast travelling
was impossible; and could only have been accomplished at the risk of
killing our horses. Mounted as I was, I might have made more of the
time; but I was under the necessity of slackening pace for my
companion--whose sorry steed constantly required waiting for. Our sole
chance lay in our route being shorter, and in the circumstance that the
fugitives had not a very long start of us; but for all this the issue
was exceedingly doubtful; and by the nicest calculations, we were
satisfied we should have but little margin to spare.
I need hardly point out the importance of our arriving in time. Should
the canoe get beyond the mouth of the Obion--without our seeing it--we
should be left undetermined as to whether they had gone _up_ the
Mississippi or _down_; and therefore altogether without a guide as to
our future movements. In fact, we should be unable to proceed further
in the pursuit. So far as the mouth of the Obion, their route was
fixed; and of course ours was also determined. But beyond, it would be
on our part mere blind guessing; and, should evil chance conduct us in
the wrong direction, the result would be ruin to our prospects. On the
other hand, could we but arrive in time--if only to see the canoe
entering the great river--and note which turning it took--our purpose
would be accomplished. That is, our _present_ purpose; for beyond that
of ascertaining their route of travel across the plains, and their point
of destination, I had formed no plans. To follow them wherever they
might go--even to the distant shores of the Pacific--to seek them
wherever they might settle--to settle beside them--beside _her_--these
were the ideas I had as yet but vaguely conceived. All ulterior designs
were contingent on the carrying out of these, and still shrouded under
the clouded drapery of the ambiguous future.
The purposes of my travelling companion differed slightly from mine, and
were, perhaps, a little more definite. His leading idea was a
settlement of old scores with Stebbins, for wrongs done to him--which he
now more particularly detailed to me. They were sufficiently
provocative of revenge; and, from the manner of my comrade, and the vows
he occasionally uttered, I could perceive that he would be as eager in
the pursuit as myself. In all probability, an encounter with the
migrating party would bring about an important change in their
programme: since the young hunter was determined, as he expressed
himself, "to force the durned skunk into a fight."
Inspired by such motives, we pressed on to the end of our journey; and
reached the mouth of the Obion, after a long and wearisome ride. It was
midnight when we arrived upon the shore of the Mississippi--at its point
of confluence with the Tennessean stream. The land upon which we stood
was scarcely elevated above the surface of the water; and covered, every
foot of it, with a forest of the cotton-wood poplar, and other
water-loving trees. These extending along the marshy borders of both
streams, hindered us from having a view of their channels. To obtain
this, it was necessary to climb one of the trees; and my comrade being
disabled, the task devolved upon me. Dismounting, I chose one that
appeared easiest of ascent; and, clambering up it as high as I could
get, I fixed myself in a fork, and commenced duty as a vidette.
My position could not have been better chosen. It afforded me a full
view, not only of the Obion's mouth, but also of the broad channel into
which it emptied--at their confluence, forming an expanse of water that,
but for its rolling current; might have been likened to a vast lake.
There was moonlight over the whole surface; and the erratic ripples were
reflected in sparkling coruscations--scarcely to be distinguished from
the gleaming of the "lightning bugs," that hovered in myriads along the
hedges of the marsh. Both banks of the lesser stream were draped to the
water's edge with an unbroken forest of cotton-woods--the tops of which
exhibiting their characteristic softness of outline, were unstirred by
the slightest breeze. Between rolled the brown waters of the Obion, in
ruder, grander flow, and with channel extended by the freshet. Every
inch of it, from side to side, was under my observation--so completely,
that I could distinguish the smallest object that might have appeared
upon its surface. Not even the tiniest waif could have escaped me--much
less a canoe freighted with human beings; and containing that fairer
form, that would be certain to secure the keenest and most eager glances
of my eye.
I congratulated myself on reaching this perch. I perceived that a
better post of observation could not have been chosen. It was complete
for the purpose; and, if I could only have felt sure that we had arrived
in time, all would have been satisfactory. Time alone would determine
the point; and, turning my eyes up stream, I entered upon my earnest
vigil.