"ON THE WAR TRAIL."
There could be no mistake about it,--pocket-book and money, and horse
and buggy, were gone with Radcliff.
"He has taken the road to Chicago," said Jack, easily tracking the
wheels after the recent rain. "But he'll find it not so easy selling the
horse there a second time."
"But he'll spend all that money," said Rufe. "He'll find it easy enough
to do that."
"I wish it wasn't night," said Jack. "I would track him! And I will as
it is. Have you a lantern?"
"Yes--I'll go with you! Shall we take the mare and one-horse wagon?"
"If you like. But, Rufe, if you go with me, you'll have to travel all
night. I am on the war trail!"
"I'm with you!" said Rufe; and he gave an Indian war-whoop.
Mr. Betterson, coming up, approved of this resolution. "And, boys," he
said, "if you _should_ lay hands on Radcliff, you may as well bring him
back with you. We'll try to have a more satisfactory settlement with him
this time."
Jack left his friends to harness the mare to the wagon, and went on
alone, with Lion and the lantern, up through the woods.
For a while he had no trouble in following the fresh marks of hoofs and
wheels over the wet ground. But when he reached the prairie, an
unforeseen difficulty appeared. The rain had not extended so far, and
the tracks were not easily distinguished.
It was nearly dark when Rufe, following in the wagon, emerged from the
woods. Lonesome and gloomy stretched the great prairie before him, under
a sky of flying clouds. The insects of the autumn night filled the air
with their shrill, melancholy notes. An owl hooted in the forest; a pair
of whippoorwills were vociferating somewhere in the thickets; and far
off on the prairie the wolves howled. Now and then a rift of dark blue
sky and a few wildly hurrying stars were visible through the flocking
clouds. No other light, or sign of life, until Rufe descried far before
him in the darkness a waving, ruddy gleam, and knew it was the ray from
the lantern swinging in Jack's hand.
Driving on as fast as the mare's somewhat decrepit paces would allow, he
found Jack waiting for him at a point where the road divided, one branch
taking a northerly direction, the other trending easterly, toward the
great road to Chicago.
"Here's a puzzle," said Jack, as Rufe drove up. "I've tracked the fellow
as far as here, notwithstanding he has tried the trick of driving off on
the prairie in two or three places. But here, instead of taking the
direct road to Chicago, as we supposed, he has taken this by-road, if my
eyes are good for anything. Lion says I am right; for I believe I've
made him understand we are hunting Snowfoot."
Rufe jumped down from the wagon, and saw by the light of the lantern the
imperfect and yet peculiar marks of Snowfoot's rather smooth-worn shoes,
and of the narrow wheel-tires.
"It is a game of his to mislead us," said Rufe. "I believe if we follow
him on to where this by-road crosses the main road, we shall find he has
there turned off toward the city."
"Go ahead, Lion; find Snowfoot!" cried Jack, and jumped into the wagon
with Rufe.
They got on as fast as they could; but the pursuit was necessarily slow,
for not only was the mare a creature of very indifferent speed, but the
boys found it useful to stop every now and then and examine the tracks
by the light of the lantern.
"The dog is right; and we are right so far, sure!" said Jack, after they
had proceeded about half a mile in this way. "_Slow and sure_ is our
policy. We've all the fall before us, Rufe; and we'll overhaul your
pretty cousin, unless something breaks. Now, drive straight on to the
main road, and we'll see what we can discover there."
To the surprise of both again, the fugitive, instead of turning
cityward, kept the northerly road.
"He is cunning," said Rufe. "He knows Chicago is the first place where
one would be apt to look for him; and, besides, I think he is getting
too well known in Chicago."
"He is bound for Wisconsin," cried Jack. "Whip along. This road passes
through the timber, and brings us to the river again; we shall soon find
settlements, where we can inquire for our game."
"If you can speak Dutch, and if it wasn't too late when Rad passed
through," Rufe replied. "There is a colony of _meinheers_ up here; they
go to bed a little after sundown."
As they drove on from the crossing, Jack said, "That left-hand road goes
to North Mills. But I sha'n't see North Mills to-night, nor for a good
many nights, I'm afraid."
Jack, however, as we shall see, was mistaken.
The road above the crossing was much more travelled than below; and for
a while the boys found it very difficult to make out Snowfoot's tracks.
But soon again fortune favored them.
"Rain--it has been raining here!" said Jack, examining the road where it
entered the skirts of the timber, "and raining hard! We must be nearing
the path of the whirlwind again."
They passed through a belt of woods, where the storm had evidently
passed but without doing much damage; for it was a peculiarity of that
elephant of a cloud that it appeared to draw up its destroying trunk
once or twice, and skip over a few miles in its course, only to swing it
down again with greater fury.
The road was now drenched all the way, and the trail they followed was
so distinct that the boys did not stop to make inquiries at the log-huts
which began to appear before they were well through the woods.
They made comparatively rapid progress up the valley, until they came to
a point where the river, in its winding course, was crossed by the road.
There, again, the tornado had done a brisk business; the bridge was
destroyed, the side of the road gullied, and the river swollen.
Both boys alighted and examined the track.
"Here is where he stopped and hesitated, finding the bridge gone," said
Jack. "And see! here are his own tracks, as if he had got out of the
buggy and gone ahead to reconnoitre."
"As well he might," Rufe answered. "Look at these tree-tops, and the
timbers of the bridge lodged in the middle of the river!"
"He seems to have got through, and I guess we can," said Jack. "I've
forded this stream, below the bridge, before now, when I've wanted to
water my horse; but it was free from all this sort of rubbish then.
There must have been a great fall of rain up here!"