speed, insane with grief, andburning with indignation.
They soon rode out of his sight; but he continued on after them--untilhe fell exhausted to the earth. He must have lain for some hours in astate of insensibility, partly caused by loss of blood--partly by thefatigue that had followed the wild raging of his passions.
It was night when he recovered his senses; and in his endeavours toreach home, he had wandered among the hills, in every direction but theright one.
I have said that he recovered his senses. The expression is hardlycorrect. He only awoke to a consciousness that he still existed--ahorrible consciousness of the inhuman treatment he had been submittedto. His most sane thought was that of a burning thirst for vengeance;but so intense had been this desire, that it defeated its own object,rendering him unconscious of everything else, and to such a degree, thathe had only discovered the right road to our camp a few minutes before Ihad met with him.
"The truth is," said he, as he finished telling me his story, "Ireturned to the place where I lost my ears, with the insane hope that Imight meet the Mexicans. After having a look at the place, I recoveredmy senses once more, enough to direct me towards the only object forwhich I now care to live and that is, revenge. I'm not in so much hastefor it now, as I was an hour ago. There's plenty of time. I'm young,and will find them sometime. Come on! Come on! How slow you walk!"
We were then going at a pace that might be called running.
On reaching our tents, we learnt that Guinane had actually taken _thewrong mule_! The miner from whom he had borrowed it, had not thought itnecessary to describe its brands. Not supposing there was another mulein the neighbourhood, in any way resembling his own, he had not imaginedthere could be any mistake.
From some diggers, we learnt that the Mexicans we wished to find, hadencamped for the night--near the place where Guinane had caught themule; and it was not strange they had accused him of having stolen it.On recovering the animal, in the manner described, they had returned totheir camp, and shortly afterwards had resumed their journey. By makingsome inquiries, we found that they had gone southward.
As they had no mining tools along with them, we came to the conclusion,that they were on their way home--into some of the northern provinces ofMexico. If so, we might easily overtake them, before they could passout of California.
We lost no time in making preparations for the pursuit--the mostimportant part of which was the providing ourselves with good horses.In due time, this difficulty was got over, although my bag of gold dustwas much lighter, after the purchase of the horses had been completed.
By daybreak of the next morning, we were ready for the road. Guinanekept urging me to expedition--in pursuit of those who had awakenedwithin his soul a thirst for vengeance, that blood alone could assuage!
Volume One, Chapter XXIII.
A CURIOUS CASE OF SELF-MURDER.
The pursuit conducted us southward; and, at almost every place where wemade inquiry, we heard of four mounted Mexicans--who could be no otherthan the men we were desirous of overtaking.
For the first two days, we were told, in answer to our inquiries, thatthey were about forty-eight hours in advance of us.
On the third morning, we again got word of them at a rancho, where theyhad stopped to bait their horses. The owner of the rancho gave adescription of a mule which they were leading along with them--a brownmule, with rat tail and hog mane. It could be no other than the one,which had cost Dick so dearly.
After feeding their animals, the Mexicans had made no further halt; buthad taken the road again--as if pressed for time. So fancied theranchero.
They must have been under some apprehension of being pursued--else theywould not have travelled in such hot haste. It was about forty hours--the man said--since they had taken their departure from the rancho. Wewere gaining upon them; but so slowly, that Guinane was all the whilechafing with impatience.
He seldom spoke. When he did, it was to urge me to greater speed. Ihad much trouble in holding him sufficiently in check to prevent ourhorses from being killed with over riding.
From information obtained at the rancho, we could now tell that theMexicans were making for the sea coast, instead of directing their marchtowards the interior. If they intended going overland to the city ofMexico, they were taking a very indirect road towards their destination.
At each place where we got word of them--on the fourth day of ourpursuit--we learnt that the distance between us was rapidly lessening.
Near the evening of this day, we stopped at another rancho, to refreshour horses--now nearly done up. The Mexicans had stopped at the sameplace, six hours before. On leaving it, they had taken the road to SanLuis Obispo. We should arrive there about noon on the following day.
"To-morrow," said Guinane, as he lay down to snatch a short repose,while our horses were feeding, "to-morrow I shall have revenge or death!My prayer is, _God let me live until to-morrow_!"
Again we were in the saddle--urging our horses along the road to SanLuis Obispo.
We reached that place at the hour of noon. Another disappointment formy companion!
San Louis is a seaport. A small vessel had departed that morning forMazatlan, and the Mexicans were aboard of her!
On arriving at the port, they had hastily disposed of their animals; andtaken passage on the vessel--which chanced to be on the eve of sailing.We were just one hour too late!
To think of following them further would have been worse than madness--which is folly. By the time we could reach Mazatlan, they might behundreds of miles off--in the interior of Mexico.
Never have I witnessed such despondency, as was exhibited by Guinane atthat moment.
So long as there had appeared a chance of overtaking the men, who hadinjured him, he had been sustained by the hope of revenge; but on ourrelinquishing the pursuit, the recollection of the many misfortunes thathad darkened his life, added to this new chagrin, came palpably beforehis mind, suggesting thoughts of suicide!
"'Twas folly to pursue them at all," said he. "I should have known thatthe chance of overtaking them would have been a stroke of fortune toogood to be mine. Fate has never yet been so kind to me, as to grant afavour I so much desired; and I was a fool to expect it. Shall I die?"
I used every means in my power to direct his thoughts to some othersubject; but he seemed not to heed, either what I said or did.
Suddenly arousing himself from a long reverie, he emphaticallyexclaimed:
"No! I will war with fate, till God calls me hence! All the curses offortune shall not make me surrender. All the powers of Hell shall notsubdue me. I will live, and conquer them all!"
His spirit, after a terrible struggle, had triumphed; and now rose inopposition to fate itself.
We rode back to the Stanislaus. It was a dreary journey; and I was gladwhen it was over. There had been an excitement in the chase, but nonein returning from it. Even the horses seemed to participate in thecloudy change that had come over our thoughts.
After arriving at the Stanislaus, I went to see Stormy Jack. I foundhim hard at work, and doing well in his claim--which was likely toafford him employment for several weeks longer. I was pleased to hearof his success; and strongly urged him to abstain from drink.
"I don't intend to drink any more," said he, "leastwise, as long as I'mon the diggings; and sartinly not when I have any gold about me. Thatlast spree, when I came so near losin' it, has larnt me manners."
Guinane accompanied me on this visit to Stormy; and on our return, wepassed through the town. My partner had left his name at the office of"Reynold's Express," for the purpose of having his letters forwardedfrom the General Post-office in San Francisco. As we passed the ExpressOffice, he called in, to see if any had arrived for him.
A letter was handed to him--for which he paid in postage and expresscharges, one dollar and fifty cents!
After getting the letter, we stepped into a tavern, where he commencedreading it.
While
thus occupied, I noticed that he seemed strangely agitated.
"We are friends," said he, turning short towards me. "I have told yousome of my troubles of the past. Read this letter, and make yourselfacquainted with some more. It is from Amanda Milne."
He held the letter before my eyes, and I read:--
"I know your upright and manly spirit will see no impropriety in mywriting to you. I have done you injustice; and in doing so, havewronged myself, as much as you. I have just learnt that your characterhas been injured by a fault of mine--by my not having acknowledgedgiving you the purse. Forgive me, Richard! for I _love_ you, and _haveloved_ you, ever since I was a child."--Guinane crumpled the letterbetween his fingers, and I was able to read no more. I saw him suddenlyraise his hands towards the place where once were his ears--at the sametime that I heard him muttering the words, "Too late! too late!"Another movement followed this--quick and suspicious. I looked toascertain its meaning. A revolver was in