It was nearly a quarter of an hour before the cloud moved away; and
then, to my surprise, I saw a clump of horses--not _horsemen_--upon the
prairie, and scarcely half-a-mile distant from the mesa! Not one of
them was mounted, and, to all appearance, it was a drove of wild-horses
that had galloped up during the interval of darkness, and were now
standing silent and motionless.
I strained my eyes upon the distant prairie, but the dim horsemen were
no longer to be seen. They must have ridden off beyond the range of
vision?
I was about to seek my comrade and communicate to him what had passed,
when, on rising to my feet, I found him standing by my side. He had
been all around the summit without seeing aught, and had returned to
satisfy himself that the guerrilla were still quiet.
"Hillow!" he exclaimed, as his eyes fell upon the _caballada_. "What
the darnation's yonder? A drove o' wild hosses? It's mighty strange
them niggers don't notice 'em! By the etarnal--"
I know not what Garey meant to have said. His words were drowned by the
wild yell that broke simultaneously from the Mexican line; and the next
moment the whole troop were seen springing to their saddles, and putting
themselves in motion.
We of course supposed that they had just discovered the caballada of
wild-horses, and it was that that was producing this sudden stampede.
What was our astonishment on perceiving that we ourselves were the cause
of the alarm; for the guerrilleros, instead of fronting to the plain,
rode closer up to the cliff, and screaming wildly, fired their carbines
at _us_! Among the rest, we could distinguish the great gun of El
Zorro, and the hiss of its leaden bullet, as it passed close to our
ears!
We were puzzled at first to know how they had discovered us. A glance
explained that the moon had risen higher in the heavens, and the shadow
cast by the mound had been gradually foreshortened. While gazing out at
the caballada, we had incautiously kept our feet; and our figures,
magnified to gigantic proportions, were thrown forward upon the plain
directly under the eyes of our enemies. They had but to look up to see
us where we stood.
Instantly we knelt down among the bushes, clutching our rifles.
The surprise occasioned by our appearance upon the cliff seemed to have
deprived our enemies, for the moment, of their habitual prudence, as
several of them rode boldly within range. Perhaps they were some of the
late arrivals. In the dark shadow, we could not make out their forms;
but one had the misfortune to be mounted on a white horse, and that
guided the trapper's aim. I saw him glancing along his barrel, and
heard the sharp crack. I fancied I heard a stifled groan from below,
and the next moment the white horse was seen galloping out into the
moonlight, but the rider was no longer upon his back.
Another cloud passed over the moon, and the plain was again shrouded
from our sight. Garey was proceeding to reload, when a cry arose amidst
the darkness, that caused him to pause and listen. The cry was again
repeated, and then uttered continuously with that wild intonation which
can alone proceed from the throat of the savage. It was not the
guerrilla that was uttering that cry; it was the yell of the Indian
warrior.
"Comanche war-hoop!" cried Garey, after listening a moment. "Comanche
war-hoop! by the etarnal! Hooraw! the Injuns are upon 'em!"
Amidst the cries, we could hear the rapid trampling of horses, and the
ground appeared to vibrate under the quick heavy tread.
Each moment the strokes sounded nearer. The savages were charging the
guerrilla!
The moon shot forth from the cloud. There was no longer a doubt. The
wild-horses were mounted; each carried an Indian naked to the waist--his
painted body glaring red in the moonlight, and terrible to behold.
By this time the Mexicans had all mounted and faced, towards the
unexpected foe, but with evident signs of irresolution in their ranks.
They would never stand the charge--no, never. So said Garey; and he was
right.
The savages had advanced within less than a hundred paces of the Mexican
line, when they were observed to pull suddenly up. It was but a
momentary halt--just time enough to enable them to mark the formation of
their foes, and send a flight of arrows into their midst. That done,
they dashed onward, uttering their wild yells, and brandishing their
long spears.
The guerrilleros only waited to discharge their carbines and escopettes;
they did not think of reloading.
Most of them flung away their guns as soon as they had fired, and the
retreat began. The whole troop turned its back upon the enemy, and
spurring their horses to a gallop, came sweeping round the base of the
mesa in headlong flight.
The Indians, uttering their demoniac yells, followed as fast. They were
rendered more furious, that their hated foe was likely to escape them.
The latter were indebted to us for having put them upon the alert. But
for that circumstance, the Indians would have charged them while
dismounted, and far different might have been their fate. Mounted and
ready for flight, most of them would probably get clear.
The moment we saw the direction the chase was about to take, Garey and I
rushed across the summit to the other side.
On arriving at the brow of the precipice, our view was perfect, and we
could see both parties as they passed along, its base directly below us.
Both were riding in straggling clumps, and scarcely two hundred paces
separated the rearmost of the pursued from the headmost of the pursuers.
The latter still uttered their war-cry, while the former now rode in
silence--their breath bound, and their voices hushed in the deathlike
stillness of terror.
All at once a cry arose from the guerrilla--short, quick, and
despairing--the voice of some new consternation; at the same moment the
whole troop were seen to pull up.
We looked for the cause of this extraordinary conduct; our eyes and ears
both guided us to the explanation.
From the opposite direction, and scarcely three hundred yards distant,
appeared a band of horsemen coming up at a gallop. They were right in
the moon's eye, and we could see glancing arms, and hear loud voices.
The hoofs could be heard pounding the prairie, and my companion and I
recognised the heavy tread of the American horse. Still more certain
were we about that hoarse "hurrah." Neither Indian nor Mexican could
have uttered that well-known shout.
"Hooraw!--the rangers!" cried Garey, as he echoed the cry at the full
pitch of his voice.
The guerrilleros, stupified by surprise at sight of this new enemy, had
paused for a moment--no doubt fancying it was another party of Indians.
Their halt was of short duration; the dim light favoured them; rifles
already played upon their ranks; and, suddenly wheeling to the left,
they struck out into the open plain.
The Indians, seeing them turn off, leaned into the diagonal line to
intercept them; but the rangers, already close, up, had just made a
similar movement, and savage and Saxon were now obliquing towards each
other!
The moon, that for some minutes had been yielding but a faint light,
became suddenly eclipsed by a cloud, and the darkness was now greater
than ever. Garey and I saw no more of the strife; but we heard the
shock of the opposing bands; we heard the war-whoop of the savage
mingling with the ranger's vengeful shout: we heard the "crack, crack,
crack" of yager rifles, and the quick detonations of revolvers--the
clashing of sabre-blades upon spear-shafts--the ring of breaking steel--
the neighing of steeds--the victor's cry of triumph--and the deep
anguished groan of the victim.
With anxious hearts, and nerves excited to their utmost, we stood upon
the cliff, and listened to these sounds of dread import.
Not long did they last. The fierce struggle was soon over. When the
moon gleamed forth again, the battle was ended. Prostrate forms, both
of man and horse, were lying upon the plain.
Far to the south, a dark clump was seen disappearing over the prairie's
edge: it was the cowardly guerrilla. To the west, horsemen galloped
away, alone, or in straggling groups; but the cheer of triumph that
reached us from the scene of strife told us who were the masters of the
ground. The rangers had triumphed.
"Whur ur ye, Bill?" cried a voice from the bottom of the cliff, which
both of us easily recognised.
"Hyar I be," answered Garey.
"Wal, we've gin them Injuns goss, I reck'n; but cuss the luck, the
yeller-bellies hev got clur off. Wagh!"