Part 72 (1/2)

He was taking it, or rather getting it--Zeb having appointed himself to the easier post of conductor.

The idea was not altogether original. It was a rude copy from the Mexican _litera_, which in Southern Texas Zeb may have seen--differing from the latter only in being without screen, and instead of two mules, having for its _atelage_ a mare and a man!

In this improvised palanquin was Maurice Gerald transported to his dwelling.

It was night when the grotesque-looking group arrived at the _locale_.

In strong but tender arms the wounded man was transferred from the stretcher to the skin couch, on which he had been accustomed to repose.

He was unconscious of where he was, and knew not the friendly faces bending over him. His thoughts were still astray, though no longer exciting him to violent action. He was experiencing an interval of calm.

He was not silent; though he made no reply to the kind questions addressed to him, or only answered them with an inconsequence that might have provoked mirth. But there were wild words upon his lips that forbade it--suggesting only serious thoughts.

His wounds received such rude dressing as his companions were capable of administering to them; and nothing more could be done but await the return of day.

Phelim went to sleep upon his shake-down; while the other sate up to keep watch by the bedside of the sufferer.

It was not from any unfaithfulness on the part of the foster-brother, that he seemed thus to disregard his duty; but simply because Zeb had requested him to lie down--telling him there was no occasion for both to remain awake.

The old hunter had his reasons. He did not desire that those wild words should be heard even by Phelim. Better he should listen to them alone.

And alone he sate listening to them--throughout the live-long night.

He heard speeches that surprised him, and names that did not. He was not surprised to hear the name ”Louise” often repeated, and coupled with fervent protestations of love.

But there was another name also often p.r.o.nounced--with speeches less pleasant to his ear.

It was the name of Louise's brother.

The speeches were disjointed--incongruous, and almost unintelligible.

Comparing one with the other, however, and a.s.sisted by the circ.u.mstances already known to him, before the morning light had entered the _jacale_, Zeb Stump had come to the conclusion: that Henry Poindexter was no longer a living man!

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

UN DIA DE NOVEDADES.

Don Silvio Martinez was one of the few Mexican _ricos_, who had chosen to remain in Texas, after the conquest of that country by the stalwart colonisers from the North.

A man of more than mature age, of peaceful habits, and taking no part in politics, he accepted the new situation without any great regret. He was the more easily reconciled to it, from a knowledge, that his loss of nationality was better than counterbalanced by his gain of security against Comanche incursions; which, previous to the coming of the new colonists, had threatened the complete depopulation of the country.

The savage was not yet entirely subdued; but his maraud was now intermittent, and occurred only at long intervals. Even this was an improvement on the old _regime_.

Don Silvio was a _ganadero_,--a grazier, on a grand scale. So grand that his _ganaderia_ was leagues in length and breadth, and contained within its limits many thousands of horses and horned cattle.

He lived in a large rectangular one-storied house--more resembling a jail than a dwelling--surrounded by extensive enclosures--_corrales_.

It was usually a quiet place; except during the time of the _herradero_, or cattle-branding; when for days it became the scene of a festivity almost Homeric.