"I kin tell yer whether it wur mounted, Cap'n," continued the hunter,
"if yer'll let me slide down and take a squint at the critter's tracks."
"It is out of our way. Perhaps you had better," I added, after a little
reflection. "Raoul, you and Chane dismount and go with the sergeant.
Hold their horses, Jack."
"If yer'll not object, Cap'n," said Lincoln, addressing me in a whisper,
"I'd rayther go 'ithout kump'ny. Thar ain't two men I'd like, in a
tight fix, better'n Rowl and Chane; but I hev done a smart chance o'
trackin' in my time, an' I allers gets along better when I'm by myself."
"Very well, Sergeant; as you wish it, go alone. We shall wait for you."
The hunter dismounted, and having carefully examined his rifle, strode
off in a direction nearly opposite to that where the object had been
seen.
I was about to call after him, impatient to continue our journey; but,
reflecting a moment, I concluded it was better to leave him to his
"instincts". In five minutes he had disappeared, having entered the
chaparral.
We sat in our saddles for half an hour, not without feelings of
impatience. I was beginning to fear that some accident had happened to
our comrade, when we heard the faint crack of a rifle, but in a
direction _nearly opposite to that which Lincoln had taken_.
"It's the sergeant's rifle, Captain," said Chane.
"Forward!" I shouted; and we dashed into the thicket in the direction
whence the report came.
We had ridden about a hundred yards through the chaparral, when we met
Lincoln coming up, with his rifle shouldered.
"Well?" I asked.
"'Twur mounted, Cap'n--'tain't now."
"What do you mean, Sergeant?"
"That the mustang hed a yeller-belly on his back, and that he hain't got
ne'er a one now, as I knows on. He got cl'ar away from me--that is, the
mustang. The yeller-belly didn't."
"What! you haven't--?"
"But I hev, Cap'n. I had good, soun' reason."
"What reason?" I demanded.
"In the first place, the feller wur a gurillye; and in the next, he wur
an outpost picket."
"How know you this?"
"Wal, Cap'n, I struck his trail on the edge of the thicket. I knowed he
hedn't kum fur, as I looked out for sign whar we crossed the crik
bottom, an' seed none. I tuk the back track, an' soon come up with him
under a big button-wood. He had been thar some time, for the ground wur
stamped like a bullock-pen."
"Well?" said I, impatient to hear the result.
"I follered him up till I seed him leanin' for'ard on his horse, clost
to the track we oughter take. From this I suspicioned him; but, gettin'
a leetle closter, I seed his gun an' fixin's strapped to the saddle. So
I tuk a sight, and whumelled him. The darned mustang got away with his
traps. This hyur's the only thing worth takin' from his carcage: it
wudn't do much harm to a grizzly b'ar."
"Good heaven!" I exclaimed, grasping the glittering object which the
hunter held towards me; "what have you done?"
It was a silver-handled stiletto. I recognised the weapon. I had given
it to the boy Narcisso.
"No harm, I reckin, Cap'n?"
"The man--the Mexican? How did he look?--what like?" I demanded
anxiously.
"Like?" repeated the hunter. "Why, Cap'n, I 'ud call him as ugly a
skunk as yer kin skeer up any whar--'ceptin' it mout be among the Digger
Injuns; but yer kin see for yurself--he's clost by."
I leaped from my horse, and followed Lincoln through the bushes. Twenty
paces brought us to the object of our search, upon the border of a small
glade. The body lay upon its back, where it had been flung by the
rearing mustang. The moon was shining full upon the face. I stooped
down to examine it. A single glance was sufficient. I had never seen
the features before. They were coarse and swart, and the long black
locks were matted and woolly. He was a zambo; and, from the
half-military equipments that clung around his body, I saw that he had
been a guerillero. Lincoln was right.
"Wal, Cap'n," said he, after I had concluded my examination of the
corpse, "ain't he a picter?"
"You think he was waiting for us?"
"For us or some other game--that's sartin."
"There's a road branches off here to Medellin," said Raoul, coming up.
"It could not have been for us: they had no knowledge of our intention
to come out."
"Possibly enough, Captain," remarked Clayley in a whisper to me. "That
villain would naturally expect us to return here. He will have learned
all that has passed: Narcisso's escape--our visits. You know he would
watch night and day to trap either of us."
"Oh, heavens!" I exclaimed, as the memory of this man came over me;
"why did I not bring more men? Clayley, we must go on now. Slowly,
Raoul--slowly, and with caution--do you hear."
The Frenchman struck into the path that led to the rancho, and rode
silently forward. We followed in single file, Lincoln keeping a
look-out some paces in the rear.