Pale, trembling, with teeth chattering, Richard Darke awakes from his
drunken slumber.
He sees his horse tied to the tree, as he left him, but making violent
efforts to get loose. For coyotes have come skulking around the copse,
and their cry agitates the animal. It is this that has awakened the
sleeper.
He starts to his feet in fear, though not of the wolves. Their
proximity has nought to do with the shudder which passes through his
frame. It comes from an apprehension he has overslept himself, and
that, meanwhile, his confederates have passed the place.
It is broad daylight, with a bright sun in the sky; though this he
cannot see through the thick foliage intervening. But his watch will
tell him the time. He takes it out and glances at the dial. The hands
appear not to move!
He holds it to his ear, but hears no ticking. Now, he remembers having
neglected to wind it up the night before. It has run down!
Hastily returning it to his pocket, he makes for open ground, where he
may get a view of the sun. By its height above the horizon, as far as
he can judge it should be about nine of the morning. This point, as he
supposes, settled, does not remove his apprehension, on the contrary but
increases it. The returning marauders would not likely be delayed so
late? In all probability they have passed.
How is he to be assured? A thought strikes him: he will step out upon
the plain, and see if he can discern their tracks. He does so, keeping
on to the summit of the pass. There he finds evidence to confirm his
fears. The loose turf around the head of the gorge is torn and trampled
by the hoofs of many horses, all going off over the plain. The robbers
have returned to their rendezvous!
Hastening back to his horse, he prepares to start after.
Leading the animal to the edge of the copse, he is confronted by what
sends a fresh thrill of fear through his heart. The sun is before his
face, but not as when he last looked at it. Instead of having risen
higher, it is now nearer the horizon!
"Great God!" he exclaims, as the truth breaks upon him. "It's setting,
not rising; evening 'stead of morning!"
Shading his eye with spread palm, he gazes at the golden orb, in look
bewildered. Not long, till assured, the sun is sinking, and night nigh.
The deduction drawn is full of sinister sequence. More than one starts
up in his mind to dismay him. He is little acquainted with the trail to
Coyote Creek, and may be unable to find it. Moreover, the robbers are
certain of being pursued, and Sime Woodley will be one of the pursuers;
Bosley forced to conduct them, far as he can. The outraged settlers may
at any moment appear coming up the pass!
He glances apprehensively towards it, then across the plain.
His face is now towards the sun, whose lower limb just touches the
horizon, the red round orb appearing across the smooth surface, as over
that of a tranquil sea.
He regards it, to direct his course. He knows that the camping place on
Coyote Creek is due west from where he is.
And at length, having resolved, he sets his foot in the stirrup, vaults
into the saddle, and spurs off, leaving the black-jack grove behind him.
He does not proceed far, before becoming uncertain as to his course.
The sun goes down, leaving heaven's firmament in darkness, with only
some last lingering rays along its western edge. These grow fainter and
fainter, till scarce any difference can be noted around the horizon's
ring.
He now rides in doubt, guessing the direction. Scanning the stars he
searches for the Polar constellation. But a mist has meanwhile sprung
up over the plain, and, creeping across the northern sky, concealed it.
In the midst of his perplexity, the moon appears; and taking bearings by
this, he once more makes westward.
But there are cumulus clouds in the sky; and these, ever and anon
drifting over the moon's disc, compel him to pull up till they pass.
At length he is favoured with a prolonged interval of light, during
which he puts his animal to its best speed, and advances many miles in
what he supposes to be the right direction. As yet he has encountered
no living creature, nor object of any kind. He is in hopes to get sight
of the solitary tree; for beyond it the trail to Coyote Creek is easily
taken.
While scanning the moonlit expanse he descries a group of figures;
apparently quadrupeds, though of what species he cannot tell. They
appear too large for wolves, and yet are not like wild horses, deer, or
buffaloes.
On drawing nearer, he discovers them to be but coyotes; the film,
refracting the moon's light, having deceived him as to their size.
What can they be doing out there? Perhaps collected around some animal
they have hunted down, and killed--possibly a prong-horn antelope? It
is not with any purpose he approaches them. He only does so because
they are in the line of his route. But before reaching the spot where
they are assembled, he sees something to excite his curiosity, at the
same time, baffling all conjecture what it can be. On his coming
closer, the jackals scatter apart, exposing it to view; then, loping
off, leave it behind them. Whatever it be, it is evidently the lure
that has brought the predatory beasts together. It is not the dead body
of deer, antelope, or animal of any kind; but a thing of rounded shape,
set upon a short shank, or stem.
"What the devil is it?" he asks himself, first pausing, and then
spurring on towards it. "Looks lor all the world like a man's head!"
At that moment, the moon emitting one of her brightest beams, shows the
object still clearer, causing him to add in exclamation, "By heavens, it
is a head!"
Another instant and he sees a face, which sends the blood back to his
heart, almost freezing it in his veins.
Horror stricken he reins up, dragging his horse upon the haunches; and
in this attitude remains, his eyes rolling as though they would start
from their sockets. Then, shouting the words, "Great God, Clancy!"
followed by a wild shriek, he wrenches the horse around, and
mechanically spurs into desperate speed.
In his headlong flight he hears a cry, which comes as from out the
earth--his own name pronounced, and after it, the word "murderer!"