"Good heavens!" exclaimed the hunter, as he came up; "thar's been foul play here, Cæsar—foul play, for sartin. D'ye think, dog, it war Indians as done it?"
The brute looked up into the speaker's face, with one of those expressions of intelligence or sagacity, which seem to speak what the tongue has not power to utter, and then wagging his tail, gave a sharp, fierce bark.
"Right, dog!" continued the other, as, stooping to the ground, he began to examine with great care the prints left there by human feet. "Right, dog, they're the rale varmints, and no mistake. Ef all folks war as sensible and knowing as you, thar would'nt be many fools about, I reckon."
Having finished his examination of the ground, the hunter again turned to look at the carcass of the horse, which was lying on its left side, some two feet from the path, and had apparently fallen dead from a shot in the forehead, between the eyes. An old saddle, devoid of straps, lay just concealed under the branching cedars. The ground around was trodden as if from a scuffle, and the limbs of the trees were broken in many places—while in two or three others could be seen spots of blood, not even yet dry—none of which informants of the recent struggle escaped the keen observation of the woodsman. Suddenly the dog, which had been watching his master's motions intently, put his nose to the ground, darted along the path further into the ravine, and presently resounded another of those mournful howls.
"Ha! another diskivery!" exclaimed the hunter, as he started after his companion.
About thirty yards further on, he came upon the carcass of another horse, which had been killed by a ball in the right side, and the blow of some weapon, probably a tomahawk, on the head. By its side also lay a lady's saddle, stripped like the former of its trappings. This the woodsman now proceeded to examine attentively, for something like a minute, during which time a troubled expression rested on his dark, sunburnt features.
"I'm either mightily mistaken," said he at length, with a grave look, "or that thar horse and saddle is the property of Ben Younker; and I reckon it's the same critter as is rid by Ella Barnwell. Heaven forbid, sweet lady, that it be thou as met with this terrible misfortune!—but ef it be, by the Power that made me, I swar to follow on thy trail; and ef I meet any of thy captors, then, Betsey, I'll just call on you for a backwoods sentiment."
As he concluded, the hunter turned with a look of affection towards his rifle, which he firmly grasped with a nervous motion. At this moment, the dog, which had been busying himself by running to and fro with his nose to the ground, suddenly paused, and laying back his ears, uttered a low, fierce growl. The hunter cast toward him a quick glance; and dropping upon his knees, applied his ear to the earth, where he remained some fifteen seconds; then rising to his feet, he made a motion with his hand, and together with Cæsar withdrew into the thicket.
For some time no sound was heard to justify this precaution of the woodsman; but at length a slight jarring of the ground became apparent, followed by a noise at some distance, resembling the clatter of horses' feet, which, gradually growing louder as the cause drew nearer, soon became sufficiently so to put all doubts on the matter at rest. In less than five minutes from the disappearance of the hunter, some eight or ten horses, bearing as many riders, approached the hill from the direction of Wilson's, and began to descend into the ravine. The party, composed of both sexes, were in high glee—some jesting, some singing, and some laughing uproariously. Nothing occurred to interrupt their merriment, until they began to lose themselves among the cedars of the hollow, when the foremost horse suddenly gave a snort and bounded to one side—a movement which his companion, close behind, imitated—while the rider of the latter, a female, uttered a loud, piercing scream of fright. In a moment the whole party was in confusion—some turning their horses to the right about and riding back towards Wilson's, at headlong speed—and some pausing in fear, undecided what to do. The two foremost horses now became very refractory, rearing and plunging in a manner that threatened to unseat their riders every moment. Of the two, the one ridden by the lady was the most ungovernable; and in spite of her efforts to quiet or hold him, he seized the bit in his teeth, and, rearing on his hind legs, plunged madly forward, until he came to where the other carcass was lying, when, giving another snort of fear, he again reared, and turning aside into the thicket, left his rider almost senseless in the path he had just quitted. Fortunately the beast shaped his course to where the hunter was concealed, who, with a sudden spring, as he was rushing past, seized upon the bridle near the bit, and succeeded, after a struggle, in mastering and leading him back to the path.
By this time the companion of the lady had come up; and seeing her condition, was dismounting to render her assistance; when his eye falling upon the stranger, he started, and placed his hand quickly to his belt, as if in search of some weapon of defence. The hunter saw the movement, and said, with a gesture of command: