"In this perplexity what are we to do?" inquired young Millbanks.
"Why," answered Boone, energetically, "Heaven knows my heart yearns to rescue all my fellow creaters who're in distress; but more particularly, prehaps, them as I know's desarving; and as I set out for Master Reynolds, and his sweet companion, Ella Barnwell, God bless her! I somehow reckon it's my duty to follow them—though I leave the rest o' ye to choose for yourselves. Ef you want to divide, and part go this trail and part follow me, mayhap it'll be as well in the end."
This plan seemed the best that could be adopted under the circumstances; and after some further consultation among themselves, it was finally agreed that Isaac, with six others—two of whom were Switcher and Stokes—should proceed on the present trail; while Millbanks and the remainder should accompany Boone. Isaac was chosen as the most suitable one to lead his party, on account of his foresight and shrewdness, and, withal, some little knowledge which he possessed of the country and the woodsman's art, previously gained in a tour with his father, when seeking a location, together with an expedition of considerable extent shortly after made with Boone himself.
To him, as the leader, the noble old hunter now turned, and in a brief manner imparted some very important advice, regarding his mode of proceeding under various difficulties, particularly cautioned him against any rash act, and concluded by saying, "Wharsomever or howsomever you may be fixed, Isaac, and you his companions, (addressing the young men by his side) don't never forget the injunction o' Daniel Boone, your friend, that you must be cool, steady and firm; and whensomever you fire at a painted varmint, be sure you don't throw away your powder!"
He then proceeded to shake hands with each, bidding them farewell and God speed, in a manner so earnest and touching as to draw tears from many an eye unused to the melting mood. The parting example of Boone was now imitated by the others, and in a few minutes both divisions had resumed their journey.
Dividing his party again as before, Boone proceeded with them to examine closely both banks of the stream for the other trail. Commencing where they had left off on the announcement of Isaac, they moved slowly downward, taking due note of every bush, leaf and blade as they went along—often pausing and bending on their knees, to observe some spot more minutely, where it seemed probable their enemies had withdrawn from the water. Cæsar, too, apparently comprehending the object of their search, ran to and fro, snuffing at every thing he saw, sometimes with his nose to the ground and sometimes elevated in the air. At length he gave a peculiar whine, at a spot about twenty yards below that which had been reached by his master, on the side opposite Isaac's discovery; and hastening to him, Boone immediately communicated to the others the cheering intelligence that the trail had been found.
Each now hurrying forward, the old hunter was soon joined by his young friends; not one of whom, on coming up, failed to express surprise that he should be so positive of what their eyes gave them not the least proof. The place where they were now assembled, was at the base of a hill, which terminated the flat or hollow in that direction, and turned the stream at a short bend off to the left, along whose side its waters ran for some twenty yards, when the arm projection of the ridge ended, and allowed it to turn and almost retrace its path on the opposite side—thus forming an elliptical bow. At the point in question, rose a steep bank of rocks, of limestone formation, against which the stream, during the spring and fall floods had rolled its tide to a height of six or eight feet; and had lodged there, from time to time, various sorts of refuse—such as old leaves, branches and roots of trees, and the like encumbrances to the smooth flow of its waters. On these rocks it was that the eyes of the party were now fixed; while their faces exhibited expressions of astonishment, that the old hunter should be able to distinguish marks of a recent trail, where they could perceive nothing but the undisturbed surface of what perhaps had been ages in forming.
"And so, lads, you don't see no trail thar, eh?" said Boone, with a quiet smile, after having listened to various observations of the party, during which time he had been carelessly leaning on his rifle.
"Why, I must confess I can see nothing of the kind," answered Henry.
"Nor I," rejoined another of the party.