CHAPTER II.
THE TINKLE OF A BELL.
The examination of the shore of the creek had lasted but a few minutes,when Terry Clark, pointing to the moist earth at their feet, called outin some excitement:
"Do ye mind that now?"
There, sure enough, were the footprints of a cow that had entered thestream from the same side on which the boys stood. The impressions couldbe seen for some distance in the clear water, which in the middle of thestream was no more than a yard deep, and they were plainly observedwhere the animal had emerged on the other side.
"I don't suppose there is any difference in the tracks of cows, but Iguess, Terry, that we are safe in making up our minds we are on thetrail of Brindle."
"I'm thinking the same," replied the other, who was not only lookingacross the creek, but into the woods beyond, as though he expected tocatch sight of the cow herself; "though it may be the one that crossedthere isn't the one that we're after."
Fred Linden was asking himself whether there was not some way in whichthey could reach the other side without going to the trouble of removingtheir shoes and leggins, and hunting a shallow portion, or allowingtheir garments to become saturated. He exclaimed: "Why didn't I think ofit? There's our canoe!"
A number of these frail craft were owned in Greville, and Fred had afine one himself, which was only a short distance off. Three minuteslater the two reached it.
The barken structure was moored by means of a long rope to a tree aconsiderable distance from the water, so that in case of one of thosesudden rises that sometimes took place, it would not be carried away bythe freshet. The boat was quickly launched, and a few strokes of thepaddle carried the two to the opposite bank of the stream.
"I wonder whether there is any danger of a rise," remarked Fred, as hecarried the rope to a tree twenty feet distant and made it fast to alimb; "there was a good deal of thunder and lightning last night off tothe east."
"But the creek doesn't come from that way," said the surprised Terry;"so what is the odds, as me father said he used to ask when the Injinswas on all sides of him, and a panther in the tree he wanted to climb,and he found himself standing on the head of a rattlesnake."
"The creek winds through every point of the compass, so it doesn't makemuch difference, as you say, where it rains, since it is sure to make arise; the only question is whether the rain was enough to affect thecreek so that it will trouble us."
"If it was goin' to do that, wouldn't it have done so before this?" wasthe natural question of his companion.
"That depends on how far away the rain was."
The boys were not idle while talking. The canoe was soon made fast, andthen they resumed their hunt for the estray. They were not skillfulenough in woodcraft to trace the animal through the forest by the meansthat an Indian would have used, but they were hopeful that by taking ageneral direction they would soon find her. If she still had the belltied around her neck, there was no reason why they should not besuccessful.
But while walking forward, Fred Linden asked a question of himself thathe did not repeat aloud.
"Has she been stolen?"
This query was naturally followed by others. It certainly wasunreasonable to think that a cow would leave her companions anddeliberately wander off, at the time she was milked twice daily. Shewould speedily suffer such distress that she would come bellowinghomeward for relief. If she really was an estray, she had missed twomilkings--that of the previous night and the morning that succeeded.
It was certain, therefore, that if she was stolen, the thief hadattended to her milking. But who could the thief be? That was theimportant question that Fred confessed himself unable to answer.
There had been occasional instances of white men who had stolen horsesfrom the frontier settlements, but the lad could recall nothing of thekind that had taken place in that neighborhood; all of which might bethe case without affecting the present loss, since it was evident thatthere must be a first theft of that nature.
But, somehow or other, Fred could not help suspecting that the red menhad to do with the disappearance of the animal. I have intimated inanother place that Greville had never been harmed by the Indians, whowere scattered here and there through the country, for there was nocomparison between them and the fierce Shawanoes, Wyandottes,Pottawatomies and other tribes, whose deeds gave to Kentucky itsimpressive title of the Dark and Bloody Ground; but among the differentbands of red men who roamed through the great wilderness west of theMississippi, were those who were capable of as atrocious cruelties aswere ever committed by the fierce warriors further east.
What more likely, therefore, than that a party of these had stolen thecow and driven her away?
There were many facts that were in favor of and against the theory; thechief one against it was that if a party of Indians had driven off onecow, they would have taken more. Then, too, the soft earth that hadrevealed the hoof tracks ought to have shown the imprint of moccasins.
You will see, therefore, that Fred could speculate for hours on thequestion without satisfying himself. He was sorry that he and Terry hadnot brought their guns with them, and was half inclined to go back. Itwas not yet noon, and they had plenty of time in which to do so.
"Terry," said Fred, turning suddenly about and addressing his friend,who was walking behind him, "we made a mistake in not bringing ourguns."
The Irish lad was about to answer when he raised his hand in a warningway and said:
"Hist!"
Both stood as motionless as the tree trunks about them, all theirfaculties centered in the one of hearing.
There was the low, deep roar which is always heard in a vast wood, madeby the soft wind stealing among the multitudinous branches, and which islike the voice of silence itself. They were so far from the creek thatits soft ripple failed to reach them.
"I don't hear any thing," said Fred at the end of a full minute.
"Nor do I," said Terry.
"Why then did you ask me to listen?"
"I was thinkin' be that token that we might hear something."
"What made you think so?"
"The tinkle of a bell."
"What!" exclaimed the amazed Fred, "are you sure?"
"That I am; just as I was about to speak, I caught the faint sound--justas we've both heard hundreds of times."
"From what point did it seem to come?"
His friend pointed due south.
"Strange it is that ye didn't catch the same."
"So I think; it may be, Terry, that you are mistaken, and you wanted tohear the bell so much that the sound was in your fancy."
The lad, however, would not admit this. He was sure there had been nomistake. Fred was about to argue further when all doubt was set at restby the sound of a cow-bell that came faintly but clearly through theforest.
"You are right," said Fred, his face brightening up; "we are on thetrack of old Brindle sure enough. It's mighty strange though how shecame to wander so far from home."
"She got lost I s'pose," replied Terry, repeating the theory that hadbeen hit upon some time before.
"It may be, but it is the first instance I ever heard of, where ananimal lost its way so easily."
The boys were in too high spirits, however, to try to explain that whichpuzzled them. The cow was a valuable creature, being the only one thatbelonged to the family with whom Terence lived, and who therefore couldill afford her loss.
The friends had pushed perhaps a couple hundred yards further whenTerry called to Fred that he was not following the right course.
"Ye're bearing too much to the lift; so much so indaad that if ye kaapon ye'll find yersilf lift."
"Why, I was about to turn a little more in that direction," replied theastonished Fred; "you are altogether wrong."
But the other sturdily insisted that he was right, and he was sopositive that he stopped short, and refused to go another step in thedirection that his friend was following. The latter was just as certainthat Terry was amiss, a
nd it looked as if they had come to a deadlock.
"There's only one way to settle it," said Fred, "and that is for each ofus to follow the route he thinks right. The cow can't be far off and weshall soon find out who is wrong. The first one that finds Brindle shallcall to the other, and he'll own up what a stupid blunder he has made."
"Ye are speakin' me own sentiments," replied Terry, who kept lookingabout him and listening as if he expected every moment that the cowherself would solve the question. Fred Linden read the meaning of hisaction, and he, too, wondered why it was that when both had plainlycaught the tinkle of the telltale bell, they should hear it no more.Strange that when it had spoken so clearly it should become silent, butsuch was the fact.
Little did either suspect the cause.