Henry Tresillian has hardly advanced a hundred yards from the cliff,
when the Indian party, turning northward, passes close to the spot where
he had been let down. Luckily not so close as to observe the rope still
hanging there, and far enough from himself to hinder their seeing him.
For the obscurity makes it impossible to distinguish objects unless very
near.
Neither sees he them, nor has any suspicion of their dangerous
proximity; and without stop or stay he keeps on towards the point where
he expects to find his horse.
He goes not without a guide. At the latest hour of twilight he had seen
Crusader about a mile off, in a direction due west; and although the
night is dark, some of the stars are visible, among them the Polar.
With this on his right shoulder he cannot mistake the way, so continues
on in confidence.
He knows he will not need to go groping about, if the horse be still
there, as it is hoped he is: a peculiarly intoned call with a whistle
will bring him up from far as he can hear it. Many a time has his
master, while hunting on the hills round Arispe, so summoned Crusader to
his side.
He has advanced more than half a mile, and is thinking whether he shall
not give the signal and put an end to all uncertainty. He should now be
near enough for it to be heard, and it will tell him if the animal be
still there or has wandered away to some other part of the _llano_. In
the latter case all his labours will be lost, and no alternative left
him but return to the cliff and get hoisted up again.
Still a thought holds him silent. The activity of the Indians, with
their frequent patrol parties, more by night than by day, has long been
a matter of curiosity and speculation among the miners. What if such a
party be now out and within hearing? For he knows that to his voice
Crusader will respond with a neigh, and that might undo all. Therefore,
curbing his impatience, he proceeds on, silent as a spectre, his glances
directed now this way, now that, endeavouring to penetrate the gloom.
All at once he hears the tramp of a horse, on the instant after seeing
and recognising Crusader. To his surprise also; for the animal is not
at rest or browsing, but moving excitedly about, every now and then
uttering a snort, as though he scented danger. His master knows he
himself cannot be the cause of this unlooked-for behaviour. The horse
is up wind, and could not possibly be aware of his approach. What,
then, is exciting him?
Wolves--coyotes? Yes, it must be that; and as a proof of its being so,
just then he hears the whining howl of the jackals simultaneously all
around.
Such a chorus resounding on every side seems odd, the more from its
being heard for but a brief moment, then silence as before. But Henry
Tresillian stays not to reflect on its oddity. He fears that the
howling repeated may start Crusader into a stampede, and without further
delay gives him that signal he knows will be answered. Answered it is,
and instantly, by a neigh sent back in response; and in twenty seconds
after the horse stands face to face with his young master, his velvet
muzzle pressing the latter's cheek. On one side there are words of
endearment, on the other a low, joyous whimpering, as though the dumb
brute was trying to speak its delight at their being together again.
Crusader opens his mouth to receive the bit, and seems almost to stoop
for the saddle to be thrown over him. He is caparisoned in a trice; but
just as Henry Tresillian, stooping to tighten the girths, gets the
buckle into its hole, he hears that which causes him to rise erect, and
clutch at the bridle: the sound of hoofs on all sides; horses evidently,
with men upon their backs. Indians!--they can be no other!
Quick as thought he vaults into the saddle, and sets himself ready to
make a dash.
In what direction? He knows that which he should take for Arispe. But
is it open to him? This he cannot tell, nor, indeed, that any way is
open to him. For he now hears the tramp of horses all around, and
before he can resolve himself, sees the horses themselves. It has grown
a little clearer, for the moon is about to rise, and Crusader's neigh
had guided the Indians to the spot.
If he stay, Henry Tresillian is conscious he will soon be encircled by a
crowd with no chance to get clear of it. Already he sees its ring
closing around him.
But the Indians are still some fifty yards distant, come to a halt;
suddenly and with shouts of surprise, for they have sighted him. There
is even terror in their accents, with awe in their hearts--awe of the
supernatural. They supposed themselves making surround of a horse, when
lo! there is a man upon his back, all in keeping with the mysterious
character Crusader has obtained among those who have vainly chased him.
The young Englishman notes their strange behaviour, but without thought
of the cause. He knows, however, they will not stay long at rest, and,
by the better light, seeing a break in their line, sets his horse's head
for it, gives the word with touch of knee, and springs forward at full
speed, determined to take his chance.
In a dozen strides he is between two of the Coyotero horsemen, when he
feels his bridle arm suddenly drawn back and held tight to his body;
then, with a quick jerk he is lifted clean out of the saddle and flung
with violence to the earth!
Fortunately he is neither stunned nor loses consciousness, but has all
his senses about him; he knows what has happened, and that he is in the
noose of a lasso. But his right arm is free, and, instantly regaining
his feet, he draws his knife, and, severing the cord in twain, releases
himself.
It would have been to little purpose had his horse been other than he
is. But the sagacious animal, seeming to comprehend all, instead of
galloping away, has stayed by his side, and in another moment has its
master on its back again.
With to all appearance a clear track before him now, the daring youth
once more makes forward, favoured by the confusion that has arisen among
the savages. In the dim light they are unable to distinguish the
strange horseman from one of themselves, and their surprise is but
increased with their superstitious terror, both holding them spellbound.
They but cry out, and question one another, without making any effort
to pursue.
Henry Tresillian begins to think himself safe away, when he sees one of
the Coyoteros, who had lagged behind their line, come full tilt towards
him in a gallop as himself. Before he can check his pace, their animals
meet in violent collision, and the mustang of the Indian is flung back
on its haunches, dismounting its rider. The man has his gun in hand,
and, seeing a paleface, instinctively raises the piece, taking aim at
him. But before he can touch the trigger, the English youth has also a
piece levelled--a pistol, which cracks first; and the savage, uttering a
wild agonised yell, staggers a pace or two, and falls backward on the
grass.
With nothing more in his way now, his young master again gives Crusader
the word, and off go they at highest race-course speed.