Out of the earth literally arose that cry, so affrighting Richard Darke;
since it came from Charles Clancy. Throughout the live-long day, on to
the mid hours of night, has he been enduring agony unspeakable.
Alone with but the companionship of hostile creatures--wolves that
threaten to gnaw the skin from his skull, and vultures ready to tear his
eyes out of their sockets.
Why has he not gone mad?
There are moments when it comes too near this, when his reason is
well-nigh unseated. But manfully he struggles against it; thoughtfully,
with reliance on Him, whose name he has repeated and prayerfully
invoked. And God, in His mercy, sends something to sustain him--a
remembrance. In his most despairing hour he recalls one circumstance
seeming favourable, and which in the confusion of thought, consequent on
such a succession of scenes, had escaped him. He now remembers the
other man found along with Darke under the live-oak. Bosley will be
able to guide a pursuing party, and with Woodley controlling, will be
forced to do it. He can lead them direct to the rendezvous of the
robbers; where Clancy can have no fear but that they will settle things
satisfactorily. There learning what has been done to himself, they
would lose no time in coming after him.
This train of conjecture, rational enough, restores his hopes, and again
he believes there is a chance of his receiving succour. About time is
he chiefly apprehensive. They may come too late?
He will do all he can to keep up; hold out as long as life itself may
last.
So resolved, he makes renewed efforts to fight off the wolves, and
frighten the vultures.
Fortunately for him the former are but coyotes, the latter turkey
buzzards both cowardly creatures, timid as hares, except when the quarry
is helpless. They must not know he is this; and to deceive them he
shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and shouts at the highest pitch of his
voice. But only at intervals, when they appear too threateningly near.
He knows the necessity of economising his cries and gestures. By too
frequent repetition they might cease to avail him.
Throughout the day he has the double enemy to deal with. But night
disembarrasses him of the birds, leaving only the beasts.
He derives little benefit from the change; for the coyotes, but jackals
in daylight, at night become wolves, emboldened by the darkness.
Besides, they have been too long gazing at the strange thing, and
listening to the shouts which have proceeded from it, without receiving
hurt or harm, to fear it as before. The time has come for attack.
Blending their unearthly notes into one grand chorus they close around,
finally resolved to assault it.
And, again, Clancy calls upon God--upon Heaven, to help him.
His prayer is heard; for what he sees seems an answer to it. The moon
is low down, her disc directly before his face, and upon the plain
between a shadow is projected, reaching to his chin. At the same time,
he sees what is making it--a man upon horseback! Simultaneously, he
hears a sound--the trampling of hoofs upon the hard turf.
The coyotes catching it, too, are scared, changing from their attitude
of attack, and dropping tails to the ground. As the shadow darkening
over them tells that the horseman is drawing nigh, they scatter off in
retreat.
Clancy utters an ejaculation of joy. He is about to hail the
approaching Norseman, when a doubt restrains him.
"Who can it be?" he asks himself with mingled hope and apprehension.
"Woodley would not be coming in that way, alone? If not some of the
settlers, at least Heywood would be along with him? Besides, there is
scarce time for them to have reached the Mission and returned. It
cannot be either. Jupiter? Has he escaped from the custody of the
outlawed crew?"
Clancy is accustomed to seeing the mulatto upon a mule. This man rides
a horse, and otherwise looks not like Jupiter. It is not he. Who,
then?
During all this time the horseman is drawing nearer, though slowly.
When first heard, the tramp told him to be going at a gallop; but he has
slackened speed, and now makes approach, apparently with caution, as if
reconnoitring. He has descried the jackals, and comes to see what they
are gathered about. These having retreated, Clancy can perceive that
the eyes of the stranger are fixed upon his own head, and that he is
evidently puzzled to make out what it is.
For a moment the man makes stop, then moves on, coming closer and
closer. With the moon behind his back, his face is in shadow, and
cannot be seen by Clancy. But it is not needed for his identification.
The dress and figure are sufficient. Cut sharply against the sky is the
figure of a plumed savage; a sham one Clancy knows, with a thrill of
fresh despair, recognising Richard Darke.
It will soon be all over with him now; in another instant his hopes,
doubts, fears, will be alike ended, with his life. He has no thought
but that Darke, since last seen, has been in communication with
Borlasse; and from him learning all, has, returned for the life he
failed to take before.
Meanwhile the plumed horseman continues to approach, till within less
than a length of his horse. Then drawing bridle with a jerk, suddenly
comes to a stop. Clancy can see, that he is struck with astonishment--
his features, now near enough to be distinguished, wearing a bewildered
look. Then hears his own name called out, a shriek succeeding; the
horse wheeled round, and away, as if Satan had hold of his tail!
For a long time is heard the tramp of the retreating horse going in full
fast gallop--gradually less distinct--at length dying away in the
distance.