When the cloud passed, the figure was no longer where I had first
noticed it; but nearer to the horsemen I perceived the same object, and
in the same attitude as before!
It was now within less than two hundred yards of the Mexican line, but a
bunch of tufted grass appeared to shelter it from the eyes of the
guerrilleros--since none of them gave any sign that it was perceived by
them.
From my elevated position, the grass did not conceal it. I had a clear
view of the figure, and was certain it was the body of a man, and, still
more, of a _naked_ man--for it glistened under the sheen of the
moonlight, as only a naked body would have done.
Up to this time I had fancied, or rather _feared_, it might be Rube. I
say feared--for I had no wish to see Rube, upon his return, present
himself in that fashion.
Surely he would not come back alone? And why should he be thus playing
the spy, since he already knew the exact position of our enemy?
The apparition puzzled me, and I was for a while in doubt.
But the _naked_ body reassured me. It could not be Rube. The skin was
of a dark hue, but so was that of the old trapper. Though born white,
the sun, dirt, gunpowder, and grease, with the smoke of many a
prairie-fire, had altered Rube's complexion to the true copper-tint; and
in point of colour, he had but little advantage over a full-blood
Indian. But Rube would not have been naked; he never doffed his
buckskins. Besides, the oily glitter of that body was not Rube's; his
"hide" would not have shone so under the moonlight. No; the prostrate
form was not his.
Another cloud cast new shadows; and while these continued, I saw no more
of the skulking figure.
As the moon again shone forth, I perceived that it was gone from behind
the tuft of grass.
I scanned the ground in the immediate neighbourhood. It was not to be
seen; but on looking farther out, I could just distinguish the figure of
a man, bent forward and rapidly gliding away.
I followed it with my eyes until it disappeared in the distance, as
though melting into the moonlight.
While gazing over the distant plain in the direction whence the figure
had retreated, I was startled at beholding, not one, but many forms
dimly outlined upon the prairie edge.
"It _was_ Rube," thought I; "and yonder are the rangers!"
I strained my eyes to the utmost. They were horsemen beyond a doubt;
but, to my astonishment, instead of being close together, one followed
another in single file, until a long line was traced against the sky
like the links of a gigantic chain.
Except in the narrow defile, or the forest-path, my rangers never rode
in that fashion. It could not be they!
At this crisis a new thought came into my mind. More than once in my
life had I witnessed a spectacle similar to that now under my eyes--more
than once had I looked upon it with dread. That serried line was an old
acquaintance: it was a band of Indian warriors on their midnight march--
upon the war-trail!
The actions of the spy were explained: he was an Indian runner. The
party to whom he belonged was about to approach the mesa--perhaps with
the design of encamping there--he had been sent forward to reconnoitre
the ground.
What effect his tale would have, I could not guess. I could see that
the horsemen were halted--perhaps awaiting the return of their
messenger. They were too distant to be seen by the Mexicans; and the
minute after, they were also invisible to my eyes upon the
darkly-shadowed prairie.
Before communicating with Garey, I resolved to wait for another gleam of
moonlight, so that I might have a more distinct story to tell.