“What is that?” I asked, struck by the emphatic energy with which the last words were spoken. “Foller him, if it be to the furrest eend o’ the world! Yes, stranger! I mean it. I’ll go arter him, an’ track him out. I’ll find him in the bottom o’ a Californey gold mine, or wherever he may try to hide hisself; an’, by the etarnal! I’ll wipe out the score—both the old un and the new un—in the skunk’s blood, or I’ll never set fut agin in the state o’ Tennessee. I’ve made up my mind to it.”
“You are determined to follow him?”
“Firmly detarmined!”
“Enough! Our roads lie together!”
Chapter Thirty Four.
A Departure in a “Dug-Out.”
We were in perfect accord as to our course of action, as in our thoughts. If our motives were not similar, our enemy was the same. Only was there a difference in our prospective designs. Love was the lure that beckoned me on; Wingrove was led by revenge. To follow him, and punish guilt, was the métier of my companion; to follow her, and rescue innocence, was the rôle cast for me. Though guided by two such different passions, both were of the strongest of our nature—either sufficient to stimulate to the most earnest action; and without loss of time, we entered upon it in full determination to succeed. I had already formed the design of pursuit; and perhaps it was with the hope of obtaining an associate and companion, that I had sought an interview with the hunter. At all events, this had been my leading idea. His expressed determination, therefore, was but the echo of my wish. It only remained for us to mould our design into a proper and practicable form.
Though not much older than my new comrade, there were some things in which I had the advantage of him. I was his superior in experience. He acknowledged it with all deference, and permitted my counsels to take the lead. The exercise of partisan warfare—especially that practised on the Mexican and Indian frontiers—is a school scarcely equalled for training the mind to coolness and self-reliance. An experience thus obtained, had given mine such a cast; and taught me, by many a well-remembered lesson, the truthfulness of that wise saw; “The more haste the less speed.” Instead, therefore of rushing at once in medias res, and starting forth, without knowing whither to go, my counsel was that we should act with caution; and adopt some definite plan of pursuit. It was not the suggestion of my heart, but rather of my head. Had I obeyed the promptings of the former, I should have been in the saddle, hours before, and galloping somewhere in a westerly direction—perhaps to find, at the end of a long journey only disappointment, and the infallibility of the adage.