A FIGURE IN THE DARKNESS.
FOR the first time since joining the Texans in the pursuit of Bell
Rickard and his captive, Herbert Watrous found himself entirely alone.
He was lying on his face in the grass, at the top of the elevation,
peering out in the night, and watching and listening for signs of
friends and enemies.
It was not until the Texans had been gone several minutes that he began
to fancy his own situation was threatened with the same peril that had
overtaken Eph Bozeman, the trapper.
“They were never certain the Apaches didn’t find out we were here,” he
thought, “and they may have been wrong in thinking that warrior did not
observe us. If those people are as cunning as I have been told, who can
say that their actions were not meant to throw two such experienced
hunters as Strubell and Lattin off their guard?”
This was figuring matters to a fine point, and the result was that
Herbert reasoned himself into a most uncomfortable frame of mind before
his friends had been absent a quarter of an hour.
“I have half a mind to go out and mount Jill,” he added, “and move off
somewhere else; I would do it if the chances were not that I would ride
into a worse place than this—my gracious!”
He was looking in the direction of the mission building, when something
assumed form in the darkness immediately in front. Like the figure
that caught the notice of Lattin at about the same time, the outlines
were so indistinct that he could not identify it at first, but, with
amazement and alarm, he speedily saw that a horseman had halted at the
foot of the slope, with the face of himself and steed turned toward
him. They were as motionless as if carved in stone, and their approach
had been accompanied with no sound that reached the ear of Herbert.
There was something so uncanny in the apparition that, after first
identifying it, the youth suspected it was a mistake, and that
something affected his vision. He turned his gaze away, and even looked
behind him. The result was similar to that which is noticeable when
we gaze at the Pleiades on a clear night. Keen scrutiny shows but six
stars, one modestly withdrawing before our ardent gaze, to reappear
when we glance carelessly in the direction again.
Bringing back his eyes from their groping, Herbert saw the horseman
so plainly that no room for doubt remained. He was there at the foot
of the slope, apparently staring upward in the darkness with the same
intensity that the lad was studying him.
There was no room for hoping that this stranger was a friend, for none
of them had left the spot with his animal. It followed, therefore, that
he was an Apache out for mischief, since that was the only errand that
ever took those miscreants abroad.
“I believe it is the same one that rode to the top of the elevation
just before night,” thought Herbert; “he saw enough to know something
is wrong, and is now seeking to find out for himself. He mustn’t
interfere with me,” added the youth, compressing his lips, as he
brought his rifle round in front.
Had the Apache made a charge upon him, Herbert would have let fly
without an instant’s hesitation. He was inclined to fire as it was;
but, like the manly boy that he had become, he shrank from doing that
which looked so much like a crime. Villainous as were the red men, he
could not force himself to shoot one down in so heartless a fashion.
Besides, there was the possibility that the Indian did not know that
anyone was on the elevation. Indeed, it might be said that the very
appearance as described was evidence that he lacked such knowledge, for
he had placed himself in a peril which one of his tribe would be sure
to avoid. Herbert therefore decided to await more positive evidence of
wrong intent before making any movement against the fellow.
His heart gave a quick throb when he discovered that the horseman was
advancing. He heard the sound of his pony’s hoofs, followed by a more
distinct outlining of both.
“I do believe I shall have to drop him,” thought Herbert, “and I
wouldn’t wait any longer if I wasn’t afraid that it would bring the
rest to the spot.”
It was this fear that restrained him. There were likely to be others
near who would swarm thither at the report of his gun, and more than
likely make him prisoner, or slay him before he could leap into the
saddle and dash off.
Self-interest urged him to wait until the last moment.
He reasoned that it was impossible for the sharp-eyed warrior to see
him, since he was still flat in the grass; he must have possessed
wonderful acumen to make his way to the spot in the darkness.
“It all depends on _you_,” was Herbert’s decision; “if you keep your
distance no one will be hurt, but one step more and there will be a
missing Apache.”
The action of the latter was singular, for, after advancing a brief
space, he again checked his pony and stood as motionless as before.
Nothing was clearer than that something was suspected at least by the
red man to cause him to act in this manner. It may have been that his
pony was the suspicious one, and the rider was debating with himself
whether to explore further or give it up.
Undoubtedly it was fortunate for himself as well as for Herbert that
he did not take long to reach a conclusion. At the moment the youth
believed a meeting was certain, his steed wheeled and was off like a
shot in the darkness—gone before Herbert could have taken any aim.
He drew a sigh of relief at being left alone once more and so
unexpectedly.
“I believe that warrior will be back,” was his conclusion, “and if he
is he won’t find _me_ here.”
Recalling the advice of Strubell, he hurried to where the horses had
been left. They seemed to have concluded that the coming of night
released them from the command of their masters to remain on the
ground, for the whole four were on their feet, cropping the grass.
Their saddles were in place, but their bits had been shifted to allow
them to eat, and each one was improving his time.
Jill gave a faint whinny on recognizing his master, and seemed pleased
to feel him in the saddle again.
“I don’t know which way to go now that I’m ready,” thought Herbert,
“but it won’t do to ride far, or Strubell and Lattin will have another
young man’s ransom to arrange for.”
Manifestly the counsel of his friends was meant that he should hold
himself ready to flee the instant it became necessary, but until then,
the chances were even that he would not decrease his peril by a change
of quarters.
A creditable motive led Herbert to adopt what might be called a
compromise, and which was not lacking in a certain acuteness.
If he remained until detected by the Apaches, and should then dash
off, they were sure to discover the other horses, and would shoot
or stampede them, leaving the three men in a hapless plight; but
if Herbert were charged upon at some other point, even if not far
removed, the animals might be overlooked in the flurry of pursuit.
He therefore rode his pony parallel with the elevation and in a
southern direction, until he had gone a hundred yards or more, when he
drew up, and awaited the development of events.
He did not go to the top of the slight ridge, but near enough to peer
over without showing anything more than the head of himself and Jill.
All this time he did not forget the risk that would be run by getting
too far from his friends. If they were to be troubled by trying to
reunite with him, the complication was likely to affect Nick Ribsam
as well. To prevent himself going astray, he therefore held along the
ridge. That could not fail to be a sure guide to him whenever he wished
to retrace his steps, for he had only to follow its course in reverse
to reach the former place in a brief space of time.
His position now was quite similar to that of the Apache a short while
before, for he was motionless on his steed, facing the top of the
ridge, and waiting, watching and listening for whatever might come.
“The whole party of Apaches,” he said to himself, “may be stealing
toward this spot, thinking to find us all within their reach.”