The Young Trail Hunters Part 8

"Well, it may look like a bar's track, but 'tain't one. What you call the heel and toes, is made by them spires of gra.s.s which the wind bends, makin' 'em scoop out the sand, as you see thar. You ought to hev seen that yourself; but you see you 'States' men never stop to think. If a hundred was ter travel over them plains once a year for fifty years, not more than one out er the hull lot would make a respectable woodsman."

"Why not?" interrupted both Hal and Ned, in a breath.

"Why not, youngsters? I'll tell you why: 'cause 'Mericans allus travel with their mouths open and their eyes shet tight. A Mexican or Injun will go all day without speakin', onless he's spoke to; but he'll see everything there is ter be seen on the route: a 'Merican'll talk continually, and see nothin' but a blasted dried-up country, that ain't fit for nothin'."

"I wish I knew something about trailing," remarked Ned. "Can't you give us a few general rules, Jerry?"

"Rules!" repeated Jerry, contemptuously, "what good d'yer s'pose rules 'ed do you? Yer wouldn't foller 'em. P'r'aps ter-night, after we git inter camp, if these cussed varmints'll let us alone long enuff, I'll give yer a lectur' on trailin', ter pay fer yer killin' that Comanche last night;-- there they be agin, surer'n shootin'," exclaimed he, suddenly pausing, and pointing to a dark spot far away on the prairie.

We had just reached the top of a long ridge that gave us an extensive view of the country around; and far, very far in the distance, Jerry's keen eyes had detected this moving object.

I brought my gla.s.ses to bear upon it, and could distinctly see a party of three or four Indians, and some one who was dressed in skirts, like a woman.

I remarked that I believed there was a woman with them, and Jerry, who had been looking long and earnestly at the party, said,--

"Yes, there's six on 'em, and one hez got on a white woman's dress, ez near ez I kin make out. We've hed 'bout 'nuff Comanche fightin', so far ez I'm consarned; but ef them devils hev got a woman pris'ner, why we'd be less than men not ter go arter her whatever happened. We kin head 'em off easy enuff by riding along on this side the ridge; but we must stop the wagons down in the holler there, so they won't see 'em."

After some little hesitation, caused by a reluctance to leave the wagons in the unprotected situation that we should if we attempted to overtake the Indians, we finally decided that common humanity required we should rescue the woman, if it could be done; and, procuring a good supply of ammunition, Jerry, myself, Hal, and one of the Mexicans started, leaving Ned in charge of the wagons, with directions relative to camping for the night in case we did not return before dark.

It was an oppressively warm day, and we had a ride of many miles before us, ere we could hope to reach the point where we expected to intercept the savages. We rode swiftly along over the beautiful green rolling prairie, pausing for nothing, until Jerry proposed a halt for a few moments, while he made a _reconnoissance_.

Approaching the top of a slight eminence, he dismounted, and carefully picketing his horse, dropped upon his hands and knees, and stealthily crept to the top. A single glance sufficed to show him the situation; and he returned to us, vainly endeavoring to repress the excitement that was plainly visible in every movement, as he said, in a low voice,--

"We kin ketch 'em, boys, sartin. It's a woman, for sure, riding on a pony, with one of the varmints on each side of her; but we've got to hurry some."

Then striking his spurs deep into his horse's flanks, he was soon far in advance of us. An hour's ride, and we came to a halt; our horses reeking with sweat, and panting like frightened deer.

Once more Jerry crept cautiously to the top of the bluff. Again we saw his head appear for an moment above the level of the waving gra.s.s that grew on the summit; then he carefully arose upon his feet, and, standing erect, gazed about him for an instant, to again drop to the earth, and quickly make his way towards us.

I had watched his movements with a nervous curiosity that I could not repress; and now, as he came towards us, saw that the time for action had come. Hurriedly he told us that the party were not a mile away; but he had failed to discover the two braves with the prisoner, who were evidently lingering behind for some purpose. His idea was to dash in between the separated party, and thus prevent them from uniting and rendering each other a.s.sistance.

Jerry took the lead; whispering to Hal to be sure and keep by my side, whatever might happen; we spurred our horses up the steep acclivity; our rifles c.o.c.ked, and ready at the word to pour a volley into the savages.

We were discovered before we reached the top; for, with a yell, the three Indians who were in advance, turned their horses and galloped furiously back in the direction of the remainder of their party, who were not yet in sight.

It was a run for life. Our horses fairly flew over the prairie, as we rapidly approached each other, almost at right angles. I saw Jerry bring his rifle to his shoulder. I noticed the long, bright barrel glisten in the sunlight, and then the little puff of white smoke curl gracefully up from the end, and knew that the foremost Indian had fallen, without looking towards him.

His two companions, with a yell of rage, hastily threw themselves over upon the sides of their horses as though to protect them from our expected volley. But not a shot was fired. We could neither of us shoot a rifle with accuracy while our horses were in motion. What should we do?

Jerry made no sign. We must either halt or use our revolvers. We still followed Jerry, whose horse was travelling at a marvelous pace. Hal kept close to my side, as we swiftly sped over the beautiful green turf. I watched every movement of the savages. Were they gaining on us? No: we seem to have headed them off. Yes: now they turn. They are going to escape us, surely.

Jerry says, "Now's your time, boys! give 'em one!"

And "give 'em one" we did.

One reels in his saddle, but clutches his horse's mane and saves himself; then, a moment after, falls, and his horse dashes off over the plain, while his comrade turns and rides madly away.

"Now, boys, easy. We've got 'em," says Jerry. "Let's give our horses a chance to breathe. Thar ain't no hurry, now; we'll have the varmints in a few minutes. Here's their trail, now."

Slowly we follow it, away from the flying fugitive towards the prisoner and her captors;--carefully we examine every foot of ground. Old Jerry says, "We must be near to 'em; but where are they? We must soon meet them;"--but meet them we never did.

In a little swale, a short distance from the trail, where the gra.s.s was fresh and green, we came upon the body of a Mexican woman--dead.

She had been scalped; and a single spear thrust, through her body, told us all that could be told of her sad story.

She had Apparantly been very feeble, and unable to keep up with the savages; for her worn and b.l.o.o.d.y feet bore evidence that she had walked many weary miles, while about her waist was a portion of the lariat that had been used in leading her.

Finding that she could no longer walk, her captors placed her on the horse; but this had greatly delayed them, and they had disposed of her in the manner above narrated. The b.l.o.o.d.y deed accomplished, the murderers were hurrying on to join their comrades, when the sound of Jerry's rifle warned them of danger; and they had made a long _detour_ from the trail, and thus escaped us.

It was growing too late to think of pursuing them farther; and we reluctantly turned our horses' heads towards camp, which we reached just after nightfall, very weary from our long afternoon's ride and quite ready for bed; nor was our sleep any the less sweet for the attempt to perform a kind action.

Ned made an effort to have Jerry deliver his lecture upon the art of trailing, but the old man appeared to think it would receive more attention another time; and so it was postponed till the following evening, when, true to his promise, he entertained us for a long hour; giving us much useful information upon the subject, which I will endeavor to repeat for the benefit of my young readers, some of whom may one day be placed like Hal and Ned in a position where they will find it, not merely a matter of entertainment, but exceedingly useful; for trailing is as much an art as is painting or sculpture, and requires the most constant practice to become a proficient in it.

Having filled and lighted his pipe, old Jerry began as follows:--

"There ain't no rules, boys, that anybody kin give yer. You must have a sharp eye, a fine ear, and a still tongue;--these make your princ.i.p.al stock in trade."

But I do not propose to follow old Jerry _verbatim_ in his long talk with the boys, but shall give you merely the substance of his remarks; and here let me add, that, in addition to the above requirements, a successful trailer should possess quick perception, fertile resources, and great presence of mind.

Almost any scout knows, that, in order to overtake a party of Indians who have stampeded his stock the night previous, he should travel slowly at the first, and follow persistantly at a moderate pace, giving his animals the night to rest in, and starting at daybreak in the morning. By following this course he is pretty certain of overtaking the party on the third day, especially if they do not suspect pursuit. Then comes the time when the services of an experienced trailer are requisite to tell you the number and condition of the enemy, and how many hours have elapsed since they pa.s.sed a given point; for it is necessary to remain concealed after you ascertain these facts, until you decide upon the manner of attack; for, if Indians suspect pursuit, they always scatter, and it is impossible to overtake them.

One can easily tell from the appearance of a trail, if it be made by a war-party or not, because there are no Indians who take their families along when starting on the war-path; consequently, they never carry their lodge-poles with them, which are always fastened to the sides of the animals, and the ends permitted to drag on the ground behind. If there should be no trace of these, it is safe to regard it as a war-party.

It is always easy to distinguish the track of an Indian pony from that made by a white man's horse; for the former will be much smaller, and bear no impression of a shoe.

One of the most difficult things to accomplish in trailing is to learn to correctly ascertain the age of a trail.

If a track is very fresh, it will show moisture when the earth is turned up, which in a few hours becomes dry. If in the sand, little particles will be found running into the impression left in the ground. Should rain have fallen since the track was made, the sharp edges will have been washed away. The condition of the ordure also furnishes an indication.

I once employed as scout, a Mexican, who could tell by a single glance at a trail, by what tribe it had been made, their number, its age, and in fact every particular concerning the party, as truthfully as though he had seen them.

We were one time following an Apache trail, when we came to a ledge of bare rock. I examined it carefully, and could detect no mark of any kind; but the Mexican led us across as easily as though it had been a beaten path, without even once hesitating a moment, during the two miles over which it extended.

When I asked him what he saw that indicated the course of the trail, he showed me that the surface of the rock was covered with a very fine, dry moss, that, with the closest scrutiny, bore evidence of having been pressed by the foot: so slight was the impression made, it would have escaped the notice of ninety-nine out of every hundred persons; yet his keen eyes detected every footprint as plainly as though it had been made in the gra.s.s.

If a trail is for any reason lost, an expert will easily recover it by following for a time its general direction and watching the formation of the land; for all trails are made over the highest portions, thereby affording a view of the entire country through which they pa.s.s.

In the gra.s.s, a trail can be seen for a long time: the blades will be trodden down and bent in the direction followed by the party; and, even after it has recovered its natural position, a good trailer will have no difficulty in following it; for his keen eye will detect a slight difference in the color of the gra.s.s that has been stepped on from that growing around it.

So, also, the appearance of the tracks will at once show him the gait at which the party were travelling, and he thus knows how to regulate his pace so as to overtake them.

It is exceedingly rare to find a white person that can retrace his steps for any distance in an open country; while an Indian is always able to do it. No matter how circuitous may be the route by which you may have reached a certain locality, an Indian will find his way back to the place of starting by the most direct route, though it be in the darkest night; and, if you ask him how he does it, if he replies to your question at all, he will simply shrug his shoulders and say, "_Quien sabe?_" or who knows.

No matter how agreeable he may be about camp; on the road he never speaks, except it should be necessary to give some direction or order.

Thus it will be seen, that he who would become a skilful trailer, must of necessity be an observer, as well as thinker; and remember, boys, that he who talks most, generally thinks the least.