CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN.
THE LOST MUSTANGS.
The lightning continued to play at intervals, and we had no difficultyin finding our way. We recrossed near the same place where we hadentered the field; and, guiding ourselves along the fence, hurried ontowards the thicket of pawpaws, where we had left our horses.
My design was to take to the road at once, and endeavour to reach thecity before daybreak. Once there, I hoped to be able to keepconcealed--both myself and my betrothed--until some opportunity offeredof getting out to sea, or up the river to one of the free states. Inever thought of taking to the woods. Chance had made me acquaintedwith a rare hiding-place, and no doubt we might have found concealmentthere for a time. The advantage of this had crossed my mind, but I didnot entertain the idea for a moment. Such a refuge could be buttemporary. We should have to flee from it in the end, and thedifficulty of escaping from the country would be as great as ever.Either for victim or criminal there is no place of concealment so safeas the crowded haunts of the populous city; and in New Orleans--half ofwhich consists of a "floating" population--incognito is especiallyeasily to be preserved.
My design, therefore--and D'Hauteville approved it--was to mount ourhorses, and make direct for the city.
Hard work I had cut out for our poor animals, especially the one thatshould have to "carry double." Tough hacks they were, and had done thejourney up cleverly enough, but it would stretch all their muscle totake us back before daylight.
Aided by the flashes, we wound our way, amid the trunks of the trees,until at length we came within sight of the pawpaw thicket--easilydistinguished by the large oblong leaves of the _asiminiers_, which hada whitish sheen under the electric light. We hurried forward withjoyful anticipation. Once mounted, we should soon get beyond the reachof pursuit.
"Strange the horses do not neigh, or give some sign of their presence!One would have thought our approach would have startled them. But no,there is no whimper, no hoof-stroke; yet we must be close to them now.I never knew of horses remaining so still? What can they be doing?Where are they?"
"Ay, where are they?" echoed D'Hauteville; "surely this is the spotwhere we left them?"
"Here it certainly was! Yes--here--this is the very sapling to which Ifastened my bridle. See! here are their hoof-prints. By Heaven! the_horses are gone_!"
I uttered this with a full conviction of its truth. There was no roomleft for doubt. There was the trampled earth where they had stood--there the very tree to which we had tied them. I easily recognised it--for it was the largest in the grove.
Who had taken them away? This was the question that first occurred tous. Some one had been dogging us? Or had it been some one who had comeacross the animals by accident? The latter supposition was the lessprobable. Who would have been wandering in the woods on such a night?or even if any one had, what would have taken them into the pawpawthicket? Ha! a new thought came into my head--perhaps the horses hadgot loose of themselves?
That was likely enough. Well, we should be able to tell as soon as thelightning flashed again, whether they had set themselves free; orwhether some human hand had undone the knotted bridles. We stood by thetree waiting for the light. It did not tarry long; and when it came itenabled us to solve the doubt. My conjecture was correct; the horseshad freed themselves. The broken branches told the tale. Something--the lightning--or more likely a prowling wild beast, had _stampeded_them; and they had broken off into the woods.
We now reproached ourselves for having so negligently fastened them--forhaving tied them to a branch of the _asiminier_, whose soft succulentwood possesses scarcely the toughness of an ordinary herbaceous plant.I was rather pleased at the discovery that the animals had freedthemselves. There was a hope they had not strayed far. We might yetfind them near at hand, with trailing bridles, cropping the grass.
Without loss of time we went in search of them--D'Hauteville took onedirection, I another, while Aurore remained in the thicket of thepawpaws.
I ranged around the neighbourhood, went back to the fence, followed itto the road, and even went some distance along the road. I searchedevery nook among the trees, pushed through thickets and cane-brakes,and, whenever it flashed, examined the ground for tracks. At intervalsI returned to the point of starting, to find that D'Hauteville had beenequally unsuccessful.
After nearly an hour spent in this fruitless search, I resolved to giveit up. I had no longer a hope of finding the horses; and, withdespairing step, I turned once more in the direction of the thicket.D'Hauteville had arrived before me.
As I approached, the quivering gleam enabled me to distinguish hisfigure. He was standing beside Aurore. He was conversing familiarlywith her. I fancied he was _polite_ to her, and that she seemedpleased. There was something in this slight scene that made a painfulimpression upon me.
Neither had he found any traces of the missing steeds. It was no uselooking any longer for them; and we agreed to discontinue the search,and pass the night in the woods.
It was with a heavy heart that I consented to this; but we had noalternative. Afoot we could not possibly reach New Orleans beforemorning; and to have been found on the road after daybreak would haveinsured our capture. Such as we could not pass without observation; andI had no doubt that, at the earliest hour, a pursuing party would takethe road to the city.
Our most prudent plan was to remain all night where we were, and renewour search for the horses as soon as it became day. If we shouldsucceed in finding them, we might conceal them in the swamp till thefollowing night, and then make for the city. If we should not recoverthem, then, by starting at an earlier hour, we might attempt the journeyon foot.
The loss of the horses had placed us in an unexpected dilemma. It hadseriously diminished our chances of escape, and increased the peril ofour position.
_Peril_ I have said, and in such we stood--peril of no trifling kind.You will with difficulty comprehend the nature of our situation. Youwill imagine yourself reading the account of some ordinary lover'sescapade--a mere runaway match, _a la Gretna Green_.
Rid yourself of this fancy. Know that all three of us had committed anact for which we were amenable. Know that my _crime_ rendered me liableto certain and severe punishment by the _laws of the land_; that a stillmore terrible sentence might be feared _outside the laws of the land_.I knew all this--I knew that life itself was imperilled by the act I hadcommitted!
Think of our danger, and it may enable you to form some idea of whatwere our feelings after returning from our bootless hunt after thehorses.
We had no choice but stay where we were till morning.
We spent half-an-hour in dragging the _tillandsia_ from the trees, andcollecting the soft leaves of the pawpaws. With these I strewed theground; and, placing Aurore upon it, I covered her with my cloak.
For myself I needed no couch. I sat down near my beloved, with my backagainst the trunk of a tree. I would fain have pillowed her head uponmy breast, but the presence of D'Hauteville restrained me. Even thatmight not have hindered me, but the slight proposal which I made hadbeen declined by Aurore. Even the hand that I had taken in mine wasrespectfully withdrawn!
I will confess that this coyness surprised and piqued me.