University of Virginia Library

45. CHAPTER XLV.

We parted from our young folks, at an obscure trace,
leading Mr. B. and Mr. C. away to the left towards Big
Possum Creek; along which, somewhere in the woods,
Mr. Blank expected to meet an ecclesiastical body, of
which he was a member.

The spot was found late that night; but as yet no delegates
had appeared, and when next day at three o'clock, P.M.
a single clergyman appeared, jaded and muddy, and reported
the waters as too high for members in certain directions
to come at all, the whole affair was postponed till
the subsidence of the flood; or, it was adjourned till dry
weather!

Mr. Blank being an officer of the general government,
and having important matters demanding his immediate
attention, now took me aside, and began as follows:—

“Mr. Carlton, do you want to try a little more backwood's
life?”

“Why?”

“Because, if possible, I should like to reach my house
to-night.”

“To-night!!—why 'tis half-past three! and your house
is at least thirty-five miles—”

“Yes, by the trace, up Big Possum—but in a straight
line through the woods 'tis not over twenty-five miles.”

“But there is no road?”

“I don't want any; the sun is bright, and by sun-down,
we shall strike a new road laid out last fall; and that I
can follow in the night.”

“I have never, Mr. B. swum a horse; and I confess I'm
a leetle timid; and we cannot expect even canoes where
there are no settlements—”

“Oh! never fear, I'll go ahead; beside, Big Possum is
all that is very seriously in the way; and I think it will
hardly swim us now—come, what do you say—will you go?”

“Well—let's see; twenty-five miles—no road, no settlement,
won't quite swim, maybe—new road in the dark—
pretty fair for a tyro, Mr. Blank; but I can't learn sooner;
I'll go, sir—let us be off at once then.”

Our friends expressed some surprise, and used some
dehortation; but the bold, energetic, and cautious character
of Mr. B. was well known, and hence no great fears
were either expressed or felt for our safety. Accordingly,
after a hasty kind of dinner-supper, we were mounted,
and started away in the fashion of boys' foot races, prefaced
by the formula—“are you saddled?—are you
bridled??—whip!—start!—and Go-o!!”

Big Possum was soon reached; and as there was no
ford established by law or custom, it was to be forded at a
venture. My friend sought, indeed, not for a place less
deep apparently, but for one less impeded by bushes and
briars, and then in he plunged, “accoutred as he was, and
bade me follow.” And so, indeed, I did boldly, and
promptly; for my courage was really so modest as to need
the stimulus of a blind and reckless conduct. Hence, all I
knew was a “powerful heap” of water in my boots again,
and an uneasy wet sensation in the saddle-seat[10] —with a

curious sinking of the horses “hinder parts,” as if he kicked
at something and could not hit it—and then a hard scramble
of his fore legs in the treacherous mud of a bank;
and then this outery of Mr. Blank, as he turned an instant
in his saddle to watch my emersion:—

“Well done! Carlton! well done! You'll be a woodsman
yet! Come, keep up—the worst is over.”

Reader! I do think praise is the most magical thing in
nature! In this case it nearly dried my inexpressibles!
And on I followed, consoling myself for the other water in
the boots, by singing—“possum up a gum tree!”

“Hulloo! Mr. B. how are you steering? by the
moss?”

“No—by the shadows.”

“Shadows! how's that?”

“Our course is almost North East—the sun is nearly
West—so cutting the shadows of the trees at the present
angle, we'll strike the road, this rate, about sun-set.”

I had travelled by the moss, a good general guide, the
north and north-west sides of trees, having more and darker
moss than the others; I had gone by a compass in a
watch key-by blazes—by the under side of leaves recently
upturned, a true Indian trace, as visible to the practiced eye
as the warm scent to a hound's nose—and by the sun, moon,
or stars; I had, in dark days, gone with comrades, who by
keeping some fifty yards apart in a line, could correct aberrations;
but never had I thought of our present simple and
infallible guide!

Man maybe, as some think, very low in the intellectual
scale, and yet he has one mark of divine resemblance—he
always is in search of simple agents and means, and when
found, he uses them in producing the greatest effects. Witness
here man's contrivances for navigating through the
air and the waters, and for crossing deserts and solitudes!
Laugh if you will, but I do confess that as we bounded along

that beautiful sunny afternoon and evening, I felt how like
gods we availed ourselves of reason, in that wilderness without
squatters, without blazes, without dry leaves, having
no compass, and indifferent to moss; ay, and I smiled at
the grim trees, while we cut athwart their black shadows
at the proper angle, and heard from den and ravine and
cliff the startled echoes crying out in amazement, in
answering clatter and clang of hoofs and clamour of human
voices!

For many miles the land was low and level, and mostly
covered with water in successive pools, seeming, at a short
distance, like parts of one immense lake of the woods!
These pools were rarely more than a few inches deep, unless
in cavities where trees had been torn up by their roots,
and such holes were easily avoided by riding around the
prostrate tops. My friend had not expected quite so much
water; for he now called out at intervals—

“Come on! Carlton! we mustn't be caught here in the
dark—the sun's getting low—can you keep up?”

“Ay—ay!—go on!—go on!”

And then, after every such exhortation and reply, as if all
past trotting had been walking, away, away we splashed,
not kicking up a dust, but a mimic shower of aqueous particles,
and many a smart sprinkle of mud, that rattled like
hail on the leaves above, and the backs and shoulders below!
Never did I believe how a horse can go!—at least
through mud and water! True, I did often think of “the
merciful man, merciful to his beast”—but I thought in
answer, that hay and oats were as scarce in the swamp as
hog and hominy; and hence, that for all our sakes we
had better bestir matters a little extra for an hour or two,
that all might get to “entertainment for man and horse.”

Hence, finally, we gave up all talking, singing, humming,
and whistling, and all conjecturing and wishing; and set
in to plain, unostentatious hard riding, kicking and whipping,

our respective “critturs” so heartily as to leave no doubt
somewhere under their hides, of our earnestness and haste;
and, therefore, about half an hour after sunset, we gained
or struck the expected road, where, although not yet free
from the waters, we had no more apprehension of losing
the course.

This road was, in truth, a new new road; and not like
some new new roads, new theatres and so forth that have
had a patent for immortality and been fresh with youth for
half a century[11] And, happily, our road had never been
cut up by a wagon, being only an opening twelve yards
wide, full of stumps, and for a few miles a-head, full of
water. Without a fixed purpose, therefore, we could not
wander from the partially illuminated and comparatively
unimpeded way; and hence twilight as it was, on we splattered
and splashed in all the glory and plenitude of mudhail,
and dirt-coloured rain.

At last we re-entered the dry world—a high and rolling
country. As it was, however, then profoundly dark, our
concluding five miles were done in a walk, slow, solemn,
and funereal; till at half past ten o'clock that night we dismounted
or disembarked, wet, weary, and hungry, at Mr.
B.'s door: and there we were more than welcomed by his
family, and all our boys and girls snug and safe from the
late perils of woods and waters.