Mounted on the mustang mare, Frank Hamersley pursues his way, wondering
at his strange guide. So lovely a being encountered in such an
out-of-the-way corner of the world--in the midst of a treeless,
waterless desert, over a hundred miles from the nearest civilised
settlement!
Who is she? Where has she come from? Whither is she conducting him?
To the last question he will soon have an answer; for as they advance
she now and then speaks words of encouragement, telling him they are
soon to reach a place of rest.
"Yonder!" she at length exclaims, pointing to two mound-shaped
elevations that rise twin-like above the level of the plain. "Between
those runs our road. Once there, we shall not have much farther to go;
the rancho will be in sight."
The young prairie merchant makes no reply. He only thinks how strange
it all is--the beautiful being by his side--her dash--her wonderful
knowledge exhibited with such an air of _naivete_--her generous
behaviour--the picturesqueness of her dress--her hunter equipment--the
great dogs trotting at her heels--the dead game on the croup behind--the
animal he bestrides--all are before his mind and mingling in his
thoughts like the unreal phantasmagoria of a dream.
And not any more like reality is the scene disclosed to his view when,
after passing around the nearest of the twin mound-shaped hills, and
entering a gate-like gorge that opens between them, he sees before him
and below--hundreds of feet below--a valley of elliptical form like a
vast basin scooped out of the plain. But for its oval shape he might
deem it the crater of some extinct volcano. But then, where is the lava
that should have been projected from it? With the exception of the two
hillocks on each hand, all the country around, far as the eye can reach,
is level as the bosom of a placid lake. And otherwise unlike a volcanic
crater is the concavity itself. No gloom down there, no black scoriae,
no returning streams of lava, nor _debris_ of pumice-stone; but, on the
contrary, a smiling vegetation--trees with foliage of different shades,
among which can be distinguished the dark-green frondage of the live-oak
and pecan, the more brilliant verdure of cottonwoods, and the
flower-loaded branches of the wild China-tree. In their midst a glassy
disc that speaks of standing water, with here and there a fleck of
white, which tells of a stream with foaming cascades and cataracts.
Near the lakelet, in the centre, a tiny column of blue smoke ascends
over the tree-tops. This indicates the presence of a dwelling; and as
they advance a little further into the gorge, the house itself can be
descried.
In contrast with the dreary plain over which he has been so long
toiling, to Hamersley the valley appears a paradise--worthy home of the
Peri who is conducting him down to it. It resembles a landscape painted
upon the concave sides of an immense oval-shaped dish, with the
cloudless sky, like a vast cover of blue glass, arching over it.
The scene seems scarcely real, and once more the young prairie merchant
begins to doubt the evidence of his senses. After all, is it only a
vision of his brain, distempered by the long strain upon his intellect,
and the agony he has been enduring? Or is it but the _mirage_ of the
desert, that has so oft already deceived him?
His doubts are dissipated by the sweet voice sounding once more in his
ears.
"_Mira, caballero_! you see where you are going now? It is not far; you
will need to keep a firm seat in the saddle for the next hundred yards
or so. There is a steep descent and a narrow pathway. Take good hold
with your knees, and trust yourself to the mare. She knows the way
well, and will bear you in safety. Won't you, Lolita? You will, my
pet!"
At this the mustang gives a soft whimper, as if answering the
interrogatory.
"I shall myself go before," the girl continues. "So let loose the rein,
and leave Lolita to take her own way."
After giving this injunction, she turns abruptly to the right, where a
path almost perpendicular leads down a ledge, traversing the facade of
the cliff. Close followed by the mustang, she advances fearlessly along
it.
Certainly a most dangerous descent, even for one afoot; and if left to
his own will, Hamersley might decline attempting it on horseback. But
he has no choice now, for before he can make either expostulation or
protest, Lolita has struck along the path, and continues with
hind-quarters high in air and neck extended in the opposite direction,
as though standing upon her head! To her rider there is no alternative
but do as he has been directed--stick close to the saddle. This he
manages by throwing his feet forward and laying his back flat along the
croup, till his shoulders come between the crossed shanks of the
prong-horns.
In this position he remains, without saying a word, or even daring to
look below, till he at length finds himself moving forward with face
upturned to the sky, thus discovering that the animal he bestrides is
once more going along level ground.
Again he hears the voice of Lolita's mistress, saying, "Now, senor, you
can sit upright; the danger is past. You have behaved well, _yegua--
yeguita_!" she adds, patting the mare upon the neck; "you shall have the
promised pinons--a whole _cuartilla_ of them."
Once more stepping to the front, she strikes off among the trees, along
a path which still inclines downward, though now in gentler slope.
Hamersley's brain is in a whirl. The strange scenes, things, thoughts,
and fancies are weaving weird spells around him; and once more he begins
to think that his senses have either forsaken or are forsaking him.
This time it is really so, for the long-protracted suffering--the waste
of blood and loss of strength--only spasmodically resuscitated by the
excitement of the strange encounter--is now being succeeded by a fever
of the brain, that is gradually depriving him of his reason.
He has a consciousness of riding on for some distance farther--under
trees, whose leafy boughs form an arcade over his head, shutting out the
sun. Soon after, all becomes suddenly luminous, as the mustang bears
him out into a clearing, with what appears a log-cabin in the centre.
He sees or fancies the forms of several men standing by its door; and as
the mare comes to a stop in their midst his fair conductor is heard
excitedly exclaiming,--
"_Hermano_! take hold of him! _Alerte! Alerte_!"
At this one of the men springs towards him; whether to be kind, or to
kill, he cannot tell. For before a hand is laid on him the strange
tableau fades from his sight; and death, with all its dark
obliviousness, seems to take possession of his soul.