“Yes,” he replied sternly, “if I have to follow her to the Rocky Mountains!”
And the mother turned away sorrowing, but hopeful. The character of Edgar was too well known to admit a doubt of his untiring perseverance.
Ten minutes sufficed to make all the provisions necessary to a long chase; at the end of that time Edgar turned his horse’s head toward the prairie, and followed by the ten men of his choice, set out at a long gallop to the west and north. The band had been selected with a thorough knowledge of every man’s qualities; they were all young, hardy, resolute and untiring. Each was equipped with rifle and knife, and each rode a powerful and well-tried horse. Beside the hatred which every ranger bore to the “redskin”—a motive in itself strong enough to bear them forward for many days—they were all warmly attached to Edgar. The latter expected a long chase; for, from certain signs, minute and unmeaning to the inexperienced, but trumpet-tongued to him, he was impressed with the belief that Jane’s captors were not merely a marauding party, making an incursion into this settlement, but a retreating band falling back from some other enterprise, either on account of defeat or division. Their numbers were too great; the character of the dress from which he had found a fragment, and the direction of their movement, all combined to this conclusion. Had he heard of the gallant defense of Fort Stephenson, a few weeks before,[[5]] his opinion might have been confirmed.
The sun was rapidly declining toward the horizon as they cleared the inclosures of Fielding’s farm and struck at once into the open prairie.
Edgar had followed the trail far enough from the grove, where the capture was made, to be satisfied that he would strike it again in half an hour’s riding, in the direction he had taken, and by following it while daylight remained, he had no doubt of being able to determine the point to which it tended. He would thus be enabled to continue the chase with some certainty after nightfall, while his enemies were probably asleep. This, of course, included the hazard of missing the trail during the hours of darkness: but Edgar’s knowledge of the country was so perfect that he had little fear of this misfortune, and the fact that they could not be more than three hours behind, was a strong incentive to take the risk.
Having halted for a moment, to explain his plan of pursuit, which his men at once approved, he turned again to the north-west and swept away at a rapid gallop. The farms were soon left out of sight, and the view was bounded only by the wavy horizon; but the sun was an all-sufficient guide, and without swerving for a moment to the right or the left the party maintained its direction for nearly an hour. Edgar began then to slacken his pace and to observe the ground more closely, halting from time to time, and waiting for the failing evening breeze to sweep along the prairie; and anon, galloping away again for a few moments, still in the same direction.
He was evidently growing anxious, for his halts became more frequent, and his speed, when in motion, greater. He verged a little toward the west, until the woods in that quarter became partially visible in the haze about the setting sun. He halted once more and gazed up and down the tranquil prairie for a long time. A light breeze swept up from the lower lands, and bending the rank grass, at last revealed the object of his search! A line of broken blades, their under sides glistening in the waning sunlight, was defined by the bending wave, extending as far as the eye could reach toward the north. It was the Indian “trail!”
He sprang from his horse and carefully examined the ground, while his followers, careful not to deface the trail, halted at some distance, and without dismounting, awaited the result of his scrutiny. It was rapid but minute. He turned aside the long grass and inspected the foot prints of the horses in the soil. There were, of course, no shod animals in their possession, yet the hoofs of these had deeply indented the ground, and the tracks were much more distinct at the point than at the heel.
“They were going at full speed,” muttered Edgar; “and,” he continued, gazing along the trail toward the north, where it stretched away, perfectly straight, through sloughs and over mounds as far as the eye could reach, “they are evidently driving for some definite point. What can it be?”
“It must be Colton’s Grove,” said one of the rangers, the most experienced among them, who had approached during the examination. “They would scarcely halt nearer than that, and in the line of this trail there is no other landmark.”