At this moment the hound, who had been leisurely jogging along in the rear, disdaining to join in the race in which his dog of a master and I had engaged, came up, and dashing quickly on to the river's edge, set up a most dismal howling. The Colonel dismounted, and clambering down the bank, which was there twenty feet high, and very steep, shouted out:
'The d—d Yankee has swum the stream!'
'Why so?' Tasked.
'To cover his tracks and delay pursuit; but he has overshot the mark. There is no other road within ten miles, and he must have taken to this one again beyond here. He's lost twenty minutes by that maneuver. Come, Sandy, call on the dog, we'll push on a little faster.'
'But he tuk to t'other bank, Cunnel. Shan't we trail him thar?' asked Sandy.
'And suppose he found a boat here,' I suggested, 'and made the shore some ways down?'
'He couldn't get Firefly into a boat—we should only waste time in scouring the other bank. The swamp this side the next run has forced him into the road within five miles. The trick is transparent. He took me for a fool,' replied the Colonel, answering both questions at once.
I had reined my horse out of the road, and when my companions turned to go, was standing at the edge of the bank, overlooking the river. Suddenly I saw, on one of the abutments of the bridge, what seemed a long, black log—strange to say, in motion!
'Colonel,' I shouted, 'see there! a living log, as I'm a white man!'
'Lord bless you,' cried the planter, taking an observation, 'it's an alligator!'