A cry of surprise, despair and horror, escaped every tongue but the old hunter's—as, at that moment, a tremendous herd of buffaloes, numbering thousands, was seen rushing from the brake, and bearing directly toward the spot where our party stood. Escape by flight was impossible; for the animals were scarcely four hundred yards distant, and booming forward with the speed of the frightened wild horse of the prairie. Nothing was apparent but speedy death, and in its most horrible form, that of dying unknown beneath the hoofs of the wild beasts of the wilderness. In this awful moment of suspense, which seemingly but preceded the disuniting of soul and body, each of the young men turned a breathless look of horror upon the old hunter, such as landsmen in a terrible gale at sea would turn upon the commander of the vessel; but, save an almost imperceptible quiver of the lips, not a muscle of the now stern countenance of Boone changed.
"Merciful Heaven!—we are lost!" cried Henry, wildly. "Oh! such a death!"
"Every man's got to die when his time comes—but none afore; and yourn hasn't come yet, Master Harry," replied Boone, quietly; "unless," he added, a moment after, as he raised his rifle to his eye, "Betsey here's forgot her old tricks."
As he spoke, his gun flashed, a report followed, and one of the foremost of the herd, an old bull, which had gained a point within a hundred yards of the marksman, stumbled forward and rolled over on the earth, with a loud bellow of pain His companions, which were pressing close behind, snorted with fear, as they successively came up; and turning aside, on either hand, made a furrow in their ranks; that, gradually widening as they advanced, finally cleared our friends by a space of twenty yards; and so passed they on, making the very earth tremble under their mighty trend.[8]
It was a sublime sight—to behold such a tremendous caravan of wild beasts rushing past—and one that filled each of the spectators, even when they knew all danger was over, with a sense of trembling awe; and they stood and gazed in silence, until the last of the herd was lost to their vision; then advancing to the noble hunter, Henry silently grasped his hard, weather-beaten hand, and turned away with tearful eyes—an example that was followed by each of the others, and which was more heart touchingly expressive of their feelings, than would have been a vocabulary of appropriate words.
Our party next proceeded to examine the wounded bull, which was still bellowing with rage and pain; and having carefully approached and despatched him with their knives, they found that the ball of Boone had entered a vital part. Taking from him a few slices of meat, to serve them in case their provisions ran short, they once more resumed their journey—the wind still easterly and the storm raging.
About three hours past noon the storm began to show signs of abatement—the wind blew less hard, and had veered several points to the north—an event which the old hunter noted with great satisfaction. They had now gained a point within ten miles of the beautiful Ohio; when the dog—which, since he had had no trail to guide him, ran where he chose—commenced barking spiritedly, some fifty paces to the left of the party, who immediately set off at a brisk gait to learn the cause.
"I'll wager what you dare, lads, the pup's found the trail," said Boone.
The event proved him in the right; for on coming up, the footsteps of both captors and captives, who had evidently passed there not over three hours before, could be distinctly traced in the soft earth. A shout—not inferior in power and duration to that set up by crazy-headed politicians, on the election of some favorite—was sent away to the hills, announcing the joy of our party; which the hills, as if partakers also of the hilarious feelings, in turn duly echoed.
This new, important, and unexpected discovery, raised the spirits of all our company to a high degree; and they again set forward at a faster gait than ever, so as to overtake the pursued if possible before they crossed the Ohio river. The trail was now broad and distinct; and the footprints of the Indians, as also those of their captives, Algernon and Ella, could be clearly defined wherever the ground chanced to be of a clayey nature. In something like two hours our pursuers succeeded in reaching the river; but unfortunately too late to intercept their enemies and rescue their friends, who had already crossed sometime before. By trailing them to the water's edge, they discovered the very spot where the canoes of the savages had been secreted on the beach, behind some drift-logs, nearly opposite the mouth of the Great Miami.