The necessity of action, however, at length produced calmness. There was no time to be wasted in idle emotions, and De Hauteroche, entering at once into the design already sketched out, we speedily prepared ourselves to carry it into execution. Adele offered no objection. She saw the necessity of this painful parting—at once from brother and lover—and she only prayed that we might succeed in the end.
Before the sun had passed his meridian, De Hauteroche and I, mounted on the two toughest steeds the stables of Saint Louis could produce, rode off for the ferry wharf. There, crossing the broad river, we entered the territory of Illinois; and, without pausing a moment, we started forward upon the road that conducts to the distant city of Cincinatti.
Story 2, Chapter XVII.
The Pursuit.
But few words passed between myself and my companion for the first ten miles along the road. He was absorbed in profound melancholy, while I was busied in making certain calculations. We travelled as fast as was safe for our horses; though far more rapidly than these were accustomed to go. Wherever the road would admit of it, our pace was a gallop; at other times a gentle canter, or an ambling gait, known throughout the Mississippian States as “pacing.” This, where horses have been trained to it (and most western horses have), is one of the fastest and most convenient gaits for travellers to adopt. Both horse and horseman are less fatigued by it than by either the trot or gallop; and the speed attained is almost as good as by either.
I had some difficulty in restraining my companion. Still labouring under the excitement produced by the painful discovery, he would have galloped on at top speed, till his horse had broken down under him. I knew that this would be the greatest of misfortunes; and that, if we had any chance of reaching Cincinatti as soon as the steamer, an incident of this kind would be certain to destroy it. Should either of our horses give up, from being overridden, much time might be lost before we could replace them; and this, perhaps, might occur miles from any town—miles from any stable where it was possible to obtain a remount. Our only hope, therefore, lay in carefully guarding against such a contretemps; and economising the strength of our animals, as far as the necessary rate of speed would allow us.
Of course we had no idea of riding the same horses all the way. That would have been impossible—at all events within the time allowed us for the journey. It was our intention to take the Saint Louis horses some sixty miles or so, in fact, to such place as we might obtain a relay, thence to proceed upon fresh ones, sixty or seventy miles further; and so on till we had reached our destination. This sort of journeying would require a liberal outlay; but of that we were not in the mind to care much. The object upon which we were bent rendered such considerations of inferior importance.
I have said that I was engaged in certain calculations. They were rather conjectures as to the probability of our success, though they partook also of the character of the former. Some of my data were exact enough. Others depended only on contingencies, that might or might not turn in our favour. Of one thing, however, I was able to assure both myself and my companion; and that was, that there was still a possibility of our overtaking the adventurer, and if fortune favoured us, a probability of it. I need hardly say how joyed was De Hauteroche by the assurance. Of course it was but my opinion; and I had only arrived at it, after a process of reasoning in which I had examined the case in all its hearings. Before starting off from Saint Louis, we had not allowed time for this. In the confused haste of preparation, we thought only of entering upon the pursuit; and had started blindly forward, without even calculating the chances of success. It would be time enough to think of these upon the road: at all events, it was not before we were fairly on the road, that we found time to talk of them.