Part 52 (1/2)

His features did not seem set in death: and as little was it like sleep.

It had more the look of death than sleep. The eyes were but half closed; and the pupils could be seen glancing through the lashes, gla.s.sy and dilated. Was the man dead?

Beyond doubt, the black birds believed that he was. But the black birds were judging only by appearances. Their wish was parent to the thought.

They were mistaken.

Whether it was the glint of the sun striking into his half-screened orbs, or nature becoming restored after a period of repose, the eyes of the prostrate man were seen to open to their full extent, while a movement was perceptible throughout his whole frame.

Soon after he raised himself a little; and, resting upon his elbow, stared confusedly around him.

The vultures soared upward into the air, and for the time maintained a higher flight.

”Am I dead, or living?” muttered he to himself. ”Dreaming, or awake?

Which is it? Where am I?”

The sunlight was blinding him. He could see nothing, till he had shaded his eyes with his hand; then only indistinctly.

”Trees above--around me! Stones underneath! That I can tell by the aching of my bones. A chapparal forest! How came I into it?

”Now I have it,” continued he, after a short spell of reflection. ”My head was dashed against a tree. There it is--the very limb that lifted me out of the saddle. My left leg pains me. Ah! I remember; it came in contact with the trunk. By heavens, I believe it is broken!”

As he said this, he made an effort to raise himself into an erect att.i.tude. It proved a failure. His sinister limb would lend him no a.s.sistance: it was swollen at the knee-joint--either shattered or dislocated.

”Where is the horse? Gone off, of course. By this time, in the stables of Casa del Corvo. I need not care now. I could not mount him, if he were standing by my side.

”The other?” he added, after a pause. ”Good heavens! what a spectacle it was! No wonder it scared the one I was riding!

”What am I to do? My leg may be broken. I can't stir from this spot, without some one to help me. Ten chances to one--a hundred--a thousand--against any one coming this way; at least not till I've become food for those filthy birds. Ugh! the hideous brutes; they stretch out their beaks, as if already sure of making a meal upon me!

”How long have I been lying here? The surf don't seem very high. It was just daybreak, as I climbed into the saddle. I suppose I've been unconscious about an hour. By my faith, I'm in a serious sc.r.a.pe? In all likelihood a broken limb--it feels broken--with no surgeon to set it; a stony couch in the heart of a Texan chapparal--the thicket around me, perhaps for miles--no chance to escape from it of myself--no hope of human creature coming to help me--wolves on the earth, and vultures in the air! Great G.o.d! why did I mount, without making sure of the rein?

I may have ridden my last ride!”

The countenance of the young man became clouded; and the cloud grew darker, and deeper, as he continued to reflect upon the perilous position in which a simple accident had placed him.

Once more he essayed to rise to his feet, and succeeded; only to find, that he had but one leg on which he could rely! It was no use, standing upon it; and he lay down again.

Two hours were pa.s.sed without any change in his situation; during which he had caused the chapparal to ring with a loud hallooing. He only desisted from this, under the conviction: that there was no one at all likely to hear him.

The shouting caused thirst; or at all events hastened the advent of this appet.i.te--surely coming on as the concomitant of the injuries he had received.

The sensation was soon experienced to such an extent that everything else--even the pain of his wounds--became of trifling consideration.

”It will kill me, if I stay here?” reflected the sufferer. ”I must make an effort to reach water. If I remember aright there's a stream somewhere in this chapparal, and not such a great way off. I must get to it, if I have to crawl upon my hands and knees. Knees! and only one in a condition to support me! There's no help for it but try. The longer I stay here, the worse it will be. The sun grows hotter. It already burns into my brain. I may lose my senses, and then--the wolves--the vultures--”

The horrid apprehension caused silence and shuddering. After a time he continued:

”If I but knew the right way to go. I remember the stream well enough.

It runs towards the chalk prairie. It should be south-east, from here.