It may not be unnecessary to inform those who have never been upon the prairies of the Far–west, that a trail is easily followed when the party pursued is in full retreat, because any indication of footsteps is a sure guide to its course; whereas, in a camping–place, where a party has remained for a considerable time, numberless paths are trodden in various directions during its stay, some for hunting excursions, some for bringing water, others for leading horses to and from their pasturage, so that the pursuer is at a loss to discover by which of these paths those of whom he is in pursuit have retreated.
War–Eagle being well aware that Mahéga was not less skilled than himself in all the stratagems and devices of Indian warfare, set about this difficult task with a deliberation that did not suit the eager temper of Reginald Brandon; nevertheless, he had so much confidence in the sagacity of his Indian brother, that he restrained all expression of his impatience, and agreed without objection to the method proposed by him at the council. Agreeably to this plan, Paul Müller, Perrot, and several of the hunters and Delawares, remained on guard at the camp, while the main body, divided into small parties of two or three in each, were to explore every trail that offered a probability of success, and to return before nightfall to report the result of their search. War–Eagle set out, accompanied by Attō; Reginald was joined by Ethelston and Baptiste; the other parties took the respective quarters assigned to them, and Wingenund, who remained some time after they had started, left the camp alone.
The trail followed by Reginald and his friends led towards the upper part of the valley, over broken and bushy ground, intersected here and there by streamlets, and small springs, which just afforded water enough to soften the herbage, in which they were soon lost. Had he been less absorbed by the object of the expedition, Reginald could not have failed to admire the tranquil beauty of this sheltered and secluded spot; but the rich foliage of the forest trees, the merry chirrup of the birds, the fragrance exhaled by the numberless shrubs and flowers, the tempting clusters of wild raspberries, scattered around their path,—all these were passed unheeded by men whose senses and faculties were centered only on the trail. With equal modesty and good sense, Reginald had desired Baptiste to take the lead, knowing that the sturdy forester’s experience in such matters was far greater than his own.
After they had marched a considerable distance in silence, Reginald inquired the opinion of his guide.
“Why, you see,” replied the latter, “the Osages have driven their horses several times this way to feed, and their marks are plain enough; but if a man may judge by the looks of the country forward, this is not likely to be the right trail. It seems to get smaller the further we go; and I’m inclined to think it’s only been a hunting–path into the woods.”
After this unsatisfactory observation, Baptiste again went forward, until he stopped at the skeleton of a deer; the same, it may be remembered, as was mentioned in a former chapter. Here all traces of a further trail ceased, and the disappointed Reginald exclaimed,—
“Baptiste, your suggestion was only too correct; we have lost our time; let us return, and search in some other direction.”
“Not so fast, Master Reginald,” replied the cautious guide; “there’s as many tricks in an Indian’s brain as there are holes in a honeycomb. The animal has been dead some time, and unless this grass deceive me, it has been trodden within these two days. Voyons vîte, as they say up north. Stand quite still: and you, too, Master Ethelston, keep on that side of the deer’s bones, while I have a bit of a hunt after the wood fashion.”
So saying, the guide, resting the “Doctor” upon the skeleton, and throwing himself upon his knees, began to turn over the leaves, and to examine minutely every blade of grass and fallen twig, muttering, as he pursued his task, “If War–Eagle, or one of his double–sighted Delawares were here, he would pick out this trail in no time. My eyes are not so good as they were some years back; but they will serve this purpose, however! This is only bungling work, after all: one—two;—yes, I think there’s been two of them. Capote! they’ve strewed sticks and leaves over the back–trail!” And the rough woodsman as, creeping forward on his knees, he discovered each succeeding step on the trail, hummed snatches of an old Canadian song, the only words of which that the two friends could distinguish, being, “Vogue, vogue, la bonne pirogue!”
“Has it not often been a matter of surprise to you,” said Ethelston in a whisper to Reginald, “that the language, and even the dialect of the guide so constantly varies? Sometimes he speaks very intelligible English; at others, his phrases and exclamations are mostly French; and, on other occasions, he mingles the two most strangely together.”