Full five minutes passed, and not one of the vultures showed signs of
stirring--five minutes of prolonged and terrible suspense. It was odd
that the birds had not at once swooped down upon the piece of venison:
since it lay conspicuously upon the ground--almost under the tree where
they were perched! A score of them there were--ranged along the dead
limbs--each with an eye keen of sight as an eagle's! Beyond doubt, they
observed the object--they would have seen it a mile off, and recognised
it too--why, then, were they disregarding it--a circumstance so
contradictory of their natural instincts and habits, that, even in that
dread hour, I remarked its singularity? The cause might have been
simple enough: perhaps the birds had already glutted themselves
elsewhere? Some wild beast of the woods--more likely, some straying
ox--had fallen a victim to disease and the summer heats; and his carcase
had furnished them with their morning's meal? There was evidence of the
truth of this, in their blood-stained beaks and gorged maws, as also the
indolent attitudes in which they roosted--many of them apparently
asleep! Others at intervals stretched forth their necks, and half
spread their wings; but only to yawn and catch the cooling breeze. Not
one of all the listless flock, showed the slightest disposition to take
wing.
There were several already in the air, wheeling high aloft; and two or
three had just joined their companions--increasing the cluster upon the
tree. These had arrived, after we had taken our stand; and others were
constantly coming down. But the signal mutually agreed to was mutually
understood: it was the _departure_ of one of the birds--not its
_arrival_--that was to give the cue of _entree_ to the tragic act--the
signal for the scene of death.
Those five minutes to me appeared fifty--ah! far more than that: for,
brief as was the actual time, a world of thoughts passed through my mind
during its continuance. The past and future were alike considered. The
memory of home, kindred, and friends; the probability that all such ties
were to be severed _now_ and for ever; some regret that laurels lately
won were to be so briefly worn; the near prospect of life's termination;
of a death inglorious--perhaps scarcely to be recorded; vague visions of
a future world; doubts not unmingled with dread, about the life to come:
such were the thoughts that whirled confusedly through my brain.
And the _proximate_ past had also its share in my reflections--perhaps
occupying the largest space of all. That thing of light and gold--that
but an hour ago had filled my heart to overflowing--was still there,
mingling with its last emotions! Was I never more to look upon that
radiant form? never more behold that face so divinely fair? never more
listen to that melodious voice? Never more! The negative answer to
these mental interrogatives--though only conjectural--was the bitterest
reflection of all!
Still stir not the vultures: only to preen their black plumes with fetid
beak; or, extending their broad wings, to shadow the sunbeam from their
bodies. It is the hour of noon; and the sun, shining down from the
zenith, permeates the atmosphere with his sultriest rays. The birds
droop under the extreme heat. It imbues them with a listless torpor.
Carrion itself would scarce tempt them from their perch. Five minutes
have elapsed; and not one moves from the tree--neither to swoop to the
earth, nor soar aloft in the air! I no longer wish them to tarry. The
suspense is terrible to endure--the more so from the ominous stillness
that reigns around. Since the last angry challenge, not a word has been
exchanged between my adversary and myself. In sullen silence, we eye
each other, with scintillating glances watching for the signal.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The situation was more than unpleasant. I longed for the _finale_. My
antagonist also showed signs of impatience. No longer preserving his
statue-like _pose_, his body began to sway from side to side; while at
intervals, he stamped the ground with his heavy heel. From the
increasing anger that betrayed itself in his looks, I expected an
explosion. It came at length. "Durn them buzzarts!" cried he, with a
hurried gesture, "thar agwine to keep us stannin' hyur till sundown.
Durn the sleepy brutes! we can't wait no longer on 'em. I dare ye--"
The challenge thus commenced was never completed--at all events, I did
not hear its conclusion; and know not to this hour what he meant to have
proposed. His speech was interrupted, and his voice drowned, by the
shrill neighing of my horse--who seemed startled at some sound from the
forest. Almost at the same instant, I heard a responsive neigh, as if
it were an echo from behind me. I heeded neither the one nor the other.
I saw that the birds were aroused from their lethargic attitude. Some
of them appeared as if pressing upon their limbs to spring upwards from
the tree. The deadly moment had come!
With my rifle raised almost to the level, I glanced rapidly towards my
antagonist. His piece was also raised; but, to my astonishment, he
appeared to be grasping it mechanically, as if hesitating to take aim!
His glance, too, showed irresolution. Instead of being turned either
upon myself or the vultures, it was bent in a different direction, and
regarding with fixed stare some object behind me! I was facing round to
inquire the cause, when I heard close at hand the trampling of a horse;
and, almost at the same instant, an exclamation, uttered in the silvery
tones of a woman's voice. This was followed by a wild scream; and,
simultaneously with its utterance, I beheld a female form springing over
the bars! It was that of a young girl, whom I recognised at a glance.
It was she I had encountered in the forest!
I had not time to recover from my surprise before the girl had glided
past me; and I followed her with my eyes, as she ran rapidly over the
space that separated me from the squatter. Still mute with surprise, I
saw her fling herself on the breast of my antagonist--at the same time
crying out in a tone of passionate entreaty: "Father, dear father! what
has _he_ done? Mercy! O mercy!"
Good God! _her_ father? Holt _her_ father?
"Away, Lil!" cried the man in a peremptory tone, removing her arms from
his neck. "Away, gurl! git ye from, hyur!"
"No, father! dear father! you will not? What does it mean? What has
_he_ done? Why are you angry with _him_?"
"Done! gurl? He's called me _coward_; an' 'ud drive us out o' house an'
home. Git ye gone, I say! Into the house wi' ye!--away!"
"Mercy! O father, have mercy! Do not kill him. He is brave--he is
beautiful! If you knew--"
"Brave! beautiful?--gurl, yur ravin'! What do you know about him?
Ye've niver seed him afore?"
"Yes, dear father! only an hour ago. If you but knew--it was he who
saved me. But for him--Father! he must not--he shall not die!"
"Saved ye? What do ye mean, gurl?"
"Hilloo! what's all this rumpus?"
The familiar ejaculation, and its adjunct interrogatory, admonished me
that a new personage had appeared upon the scene. The voice came from
behind. On turning, I beheld the unexpected speaker--a man on
horseback, who had ridden up to the bars; and having halted there was
craning his neck into the enclosure--gazing upon the scene that was
being enacted there, with a singular half-comic, half-satirical
expression of countenance!