The wolves, then, were after him!
The trackers had made out their footprints in the mud of the arroyo.
Both kinds had been there--the large brown wolf of Texas, and the small
barking _coyote_ of the plains. A full pack there had been, as the
trappers could tell by the numerous tracks, and that they were following
the horse, the tracks also testified to these men of strange
intelligence. How knew they this? By what sign?
To my inquiries, I obtained answer from Garey.
Above the spring-branch extended a shelving bank; up this the steed had
bounded, after drinking at the pool. Up this, too, the wolves had
sprung after: they had left the indentation of their claws in the soft
loam.
How knew Garey that they were in pursuit of the horse?
The "scratches" told him they were going at their fastest, and they
would not have sprung so far had they not been pursuing some prey.
There were footmarks of no other animal except theirs, and the
hoof-prints of that steed; and that they were after him was evident to
the trapper, because _the tracks of the wolves covered those of the
horse_.
Garey had no more doubt of the correctness of his reasoning, than a
geometrician of the truth of a theorem in Euclid.
I groaned in spirit as I was forced to adopt his conclusion. But it was
all probable--too probable. Had the steed been alone--Unembarrassed--
free--it was not likely the wolves would have chased him thus. The
wild-horse in his prime is rarely the object of their attack; though the
old and infirm--the gravid mare, and the feeble colt--often fall before
these hungry hunters of the plains. Both common wolf and coyote possess
all the astuteness of the fox, and know, as if by instinct, the animal
that is wounded to death. They will follow the stricken deer that has
escaped from the hunter; but if it prove to be but slightly harmed,
instinctively they abandon the chase.
Their instinct had told them that the steed was not ridden by a free
hand; they had seen that there was _something amiss_; and in the hope of
running down both horse and rider, they had followed with hungry howl.
Another fact lent probability to this painful conjecture; we knew that
by the mesa were many wolves.
The spring was the constant resort of ruminant animals, deer and
antelopes; the half-wild cattle of the _ganaderos_ drank there, and the
tottering calf oft became the prey of the coyote and his more powerful
congener, the gaunt Texan wolf. There was still another reason why the
place must of late have been the favourite prowl of these hideous
brutes: the _debris_ of our skirmish had furnished them with many a
midnight banquet. They had ravened upon the blood of men and the flesh
of horses, and they hungered for more.
That they might succeed in running down the steed, cumbered as he was,
was probable enough. Sooner or later, they would overtake him. It
might be after a long, long gallop over hill and dale, through swamp and
chapparal; but still it was probable those tough, tireless pursuers
would overtake him. They would launch themselves upon his flanks; they
would seize upon his wearied limbs--upon hers, the helpless victim on
his back--both horse and rider would be dragged to the earth--both
torn--parted in pieces--devoured!