CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
DISTANCED--NO DANGER NOW.
Finding himself clear of the Indians, Henry Tresillian's heart beatshigh with hope; no mischance happening, he can trust Crusader to keephim clear. And now he turns his thoughts to the direction he shouldtake. But first to that in which he is going, for he has galloped outof the encircling line through the nearest opening that caught his eye.
The foretaste of the moonlight enables him to see where he is--luckily,on the right track. The route to Arispe lies south-eastward, and thelake must be passed at its upper or lower end. The former is the directroute, the other around about; but then there is the Indian camp to begot past, and others of the savages may be up and about. Still thewagon _corral_ is two or three hundred yards from the water's edge,which may give him a chance to pass between unobserved, and, withunlimited confidence in his horse, he resolves upon risking it.
An error of judgment: he has not taken into account the _fracas_ behind,with the report of his own pistol, and that all this must have beenheard by the redskins remaining in camp. It has nevertheless. Theconsequence being that ere he has got half round the upper end of thelake, he sees the plain in front of him thickly dotted with dark forms--men on horseback--hears them shouting to one another. A glance showshim it is a gauntlet too dangerous to be run. The fleetness of hissteed were no surety against gun-shots.
He reins up abruptly, and, with a wrench round, sets head west again,with the design to do what he should have done at first--turn the lakebelow.
The _detour_ will be much greater now: he has passed a large elbow ofit, which must be repassed to get around; but there is no alternative,and, regretting his mistake, he makes along the back track at bestspeed. Not far before finding further reason to be sorry for hisblunder. On that side, too, he sees mounted men directly before him--those he had lately eluded. They are scattered all over the plain,apparently in search of him, some riding towards the lake's lower end,thinking he has gone that way. But all have their eyes on him now, andplace themselves in position to intercept him. His path is beset onevery side, the triumphant cries of the Coyoteros proclaiming theirconfidence that they have him at last--sure to capture or kill him now.And his own heart almost fails him: go which way he will, it must bethrough a shower of bullets.
Again he reins up, and sits in his saddle undecided. The risk seemsequal, but it must be run; there is no help for it.
Ha! yes, there is. A thought has flashed across his brain--a memory.He remembers having seen the camp animals wading the lake through andthrough; not over belly-deep. Why cannot Crusader?
With quick resolve he sets his horse's head for the water, and in asecond or two after the animal is up to the saddle-girths, plunginglightly as if it were but fetlock-deep.
Another cry from the Indians on both sides--surprise and disappointmentmingled; in tones telling of their belief in the supernatural, and comeback.
But soon they, too, recall the shallowness of the lake, and see nothingstrange in the fugitive attempting to escape across it. So, withoutloss of time, they again put their horses to speed, making to head himon its eastern shore.
They are as near as can be to succeeding. A close shave it is for thepursued messenger, who, on emerging from the water, sees on either flankhorsemen hastening towards him. But he is not dismayed. Before any ofthem are within shot range he dashes onward; Crusader, with sinewsbraced by the cool bath, showing speed which ensures him against beingovertaken.
He is pursued, nevertheless. The subtle savages know there are chancesand mischances. One of the latter may arise in their favour; and hopingit will be so, they continue the chase.
The moon is now up, everything on the level _llano_ distinguishable formiles, and the black horse with his pale-faced rider is still less thantwenty lengths ahead; so after him they go, fast as their mustangs canbe forced.
Only to find that in brief time the twenty lengths have become doubled,then trebled, till in fine they see that it is fruitless to carry thepursuit further.
With hearts full of anger and chagrin, they give it up. Someapprehension have they as well. El Zopilote is not with them; what willhe say on their returning empty-handed? what do? For it is now no merematter of the catching of a horse; instead, more serious--a courier goneoff to bring succour to the besieged.
Down-hearted and dejectedly they turn their horses' heads, and ride backfor Nauchampa-tepetl.
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Had the Coyoteros stuck to their faith in the probability of accidentsand continued the pursuit, they might have overtaken Henry Tresillianafter all. For scarce have they turned backs upon him when a mishapbefalls him, not absolutely staying him in his course, but delaying himwellnigh an hour. He is making to regain the road which runs north fromArispe, at the point where the caravan, forced by want of water, haddeflected from it to the Cerro Perdido. In daylight he could haveridden straight to it; for since then from the _mesas_ summit PedroVicente had pointed to guide-marks indicating the spot where hisinitials were carved upon the _palmida_. But in his haste now, amid theglamour of a newly-risen moon, the messenger has gone astray, onlydiscovering it when his horse suddenly staggering forward comes downupon his knees, shooting him out of the saddle.
He is less hurt than surprised. Never before has Crusader made falsestep or stumble, and why now?
A moment reveals the reason: the ground has given way beneath, lettinghim down knee-deep into a hole, the burrow of some animal.
Fortunately, there are no bones broken, no damage done either to horseor rider; and the latter, recovering his seat in the saddle, essays toproceed. Soon to be a second time brought to a stand, though not nowunhorsed. Crusader but lurches, keeping his legs, though again neargoing down.
The young Englishman perceives what it is: he is riding through a warrenof the kind well known on the plains of Western America as "aprairie-dog town or village." In the moonlight he sees the hillocks ofthese marmots all around, with the animals themselves squatting on them;hears their tiny squirrel-like bark, intermingling with the hoot of thequaint little owl which shares their subterranean habitations.
Once more at halt, he again bethinks himself what is best to do. Shallhe ride back and go round the village, or continue on across it, takingthe chances of the treacherous ground?
He listens, soon to become assured that the pursuit has been abandoned,thus giving him choice to act deliberately, and do as seems best to him.
Around the dog town may be miles, while direct to the other side may beonly a few score yards. They are often of oblong shape, extending far,but of little breadth, possibly because of the condition of the groundand the herbage it produces.
Having ridden into it, he resolves to keep on; but to his greatannoyance and disgust finds it to extend far beyond the limits of hispatience; and as Crusader's hoofs break through the hollow crust, itbecomes necessary to alight and lead him.
At length, however, he is out of it, and again on firm ground, with thelevel _llano_ far stretching before him. But in the distance hediscerns a mountain ridge, trending north and south, lit up by themoon's light, along which, as he knows, lies the route to Arispe.
"We're on the right road now, my noble Crusader, with no fear of beingfollowed. And we must make it short as possible. The lives of manydepend on that--on your speed, brave fellow. So let us on."
Crusader responds with one of his strangely-intoned whimperings--almostspeech. Then stands motionless, till his young master is in the saddle;after which he again goes off in a gallop, _ventre a terre_.