CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO.
THE SLEUTH-HOUNDS.
The shrill whistle, pealing along the water, pierced the dark aisles ofthe forest. It aroused the wild denizens of the lake, who, startled bysuch an unusual sound, answered it with their various cries in ascreaming concert. The screech of the crane and the Louisiana heron,the hoarse hooting of owls, and the hoarser croak of the pelican,mingled together; and, louder than all, the scream of the osprey and thevoice of the bald eagle--the last falling upon the ear with sharpmetallic repetitions that exactly resembled the filing of saws.
For some moments this commotion was kept up; and it occurred to me thatif I had to repeat the signal then it would not have been heard. Shrillas it was, it could scarce have been distinguished in such a din!
Crouching among the branches, we remained to await the result. We madeno attempts at idle converse. The moments were too perilous for aughtbut feelings of extreme anxiety. Now and then a word of cheer--amuttered hope--were all the communications that passed between us.
With earnest looks we watched the water--with glances of fear weregarded the land. On one side we listened for the plashing of apaddle; on the other we dreaded to hear the "howl" of a hound. Nevercan I forget those moments--those deeply-anxious moments. Till death Imay not forget them.
Every thought at the time--every incident, however minute--now rushesinto my remembrance, as if it were a thing of yesterday.
I remember that once or twice, away under the trees, we perceived aripple along the surface of the water. Our hearts were full of hope--wethought it was the canoe.
It was a fleeting joy. The waves were made by the great saurian, whosehideous body--large almost as the pirogue itself--next moment passedbefore our eyes, cleaving the water with fish-like velocity.
I remember entertaining the supposition that the runaway _might not bein his lair_! He might be off in the forest--in search of food--or onany other errand. Then the reflection followed--if such were the case,I should have found the pirogue by the tree? Still he might have otherlanding-places around the lake--on the other side perhaps. He had nottold me whether or no, and it was probable enough. These hypotheticconjectures increased my anxiety.
But there arose another, far more dreadful, because far more probable--
_The black might be asleep_!
Far more probable, because night was his day, and day his night. Atnight he was abroad, roaming and busy--by day he was at home and slept.
Oh, Heavens! if he should be asleep, and not have heard the signal!
Such was the terrible fancy that rushed across my brain.
I felt suddenly impelled to repeat the signal--though I thought at thetime, if my conjecture were correct, there was but little hope he wouldhear me. A negro sleeps like a torpid bear. The report of a gun or arailway-whistle alone could awake one. There was no chance for a punypipe like mine--the more especially as the screaming concert stillcontinued.
"Even if he should hear it, he would hardly be able to distinguish thewhistle from--Merciful heavens!"
I was speaking to my companion when this exclamation interrupted me. Itcame from my own lips, but with involuntary utterance. It was calledforth by a sound of dread import--a sound that I could hear above theshrill screaming of the birds, and hearing could interpret. It was thetrumpet-like baying of a hound!
I stood bent, and listening; I heard it again. There was no mistakingthat note. I had the ears of a hunter. I knew the music well.
Oh, how unlike to music then! It fell upon my ears like a cry ofvengeance--like a knell of death!
I thought no longer of repeating the signal; even if heard, it would betoo late. I flung the reed away, as a useless toy. I drew Aurore alongthe tree, passing her behind me; and raising myself erect, stoodfronting the land.
Again the "gowl" broke out--its loud echoes rolling through the woods--this time so near, that every moment I expected to see the animal thathad uttered it.
I had not long to wait. A hundred yards off was a cane-brake. I couldperceive a motion among the tall reeds. Their tops swayed to and fro,and their hollow culms rattled against each other, as they were jerkedabout, and borne downward. Some living thing was pressing through theirmidst.
The motion reached their verge--the last canes gave way, and I now sawwhat I had looked for--the spotted body of a hound! With a spring theanimal came forth, paused for a moment in the open ground, and then,uttering a prolonged howl, took up the scent, and galloped forward.
Close upon his heels came a second; the waving cane closed behind them,and both ran forward in the direction of the log.
As there was no longer any underwood, I had a full view of their bodies.Gloomy as the place was, I could see them with sufficient distinctnessto note their kind--huge, gaunt deer-hounds, black and tan. From themanner of their approach, they had evidently been trained to their work,and that was _not_ the hunting of deer. No ordinary hound would haverun upon a human track, as they were running upon ours.
The moment I saw these dogs I made ready for a conflict. Their hugesize, their broad heavy jaws, and ferocious looks, told what savagebrutes they were; and I felt satisfied they would attack me as soon asthey came up.
With this belief I drew forth a pistol; and, laying hold of a branch tosteady me, I stood waiting their approach.
I had not miscalculated. On reaching the prostrate trunk, he scarcelymade a pause; but, leaping upward, came running along the log. He haddropped the scent, and now advanced with eyes glaring, evidentlymeditating to spring upon me.
My position could not have been better, had I spent an hour in choosingit. From the nature of the ground, my assailant could neither dodge tothe right nor the left; but was compelled to approach me in a line asstraight as an arrow. I had nought to do but hold my weapon firm andproperly directed. A novice with fire-arms could hardly have missedsuch an object.
My nerves were strung with anger--a feeling of intense indignation wasburning in my breast, that rendered me as firm as steel. I was coolfrom very passion--at the thought of being thus hunted like a wolf!
I waited until the muzzle of the hound almost met that of the pistol,and then I fired. The dog tumbled from the log.
I saw the other close upon his heels. I aimed through the smoke, andagain pulled trigger.
The good weapon did not fail me. Again the report was followed by aplunge.
The hounds were no longer upon the log. They had fallen right and leftinto the black water below!