Part 129 (1/2)

It is not necessary to say to that a.s.semblage, that the thing is an improbability--much less to p.r.o.nounce it impossible. They are Texans of the south-west--denizens of the high upland plateau, bordering upon the ”Staked Plain,” from which springs the lovely Leona, and where the river of Nuts heads in a hundred crystal streams.

They are dwellers in a land, where death can scarce be said to have its successor in decay; where the stag struck down in its tracks--or the wild steed succ.u.mbing to some hapless chance--unless by wild beasts devoured, will, after a time, bid defiance both to the laws of corruption and the teeth of the coyote; where the corpse of mortal man himself, left uncoffined and uncovered, will, in the short period of eight-and-forty hours, exhibit the signs, and partake of the qualities, of a mummy freshly exhumed from the catacombs of Egypt!

But few upon the ground who are not acquainted with this peculiarity of the Texan climate--that section of it close to the Sierra Madro--and more especially among the spurs of the Llano Estacado.

Should the Headless Horseman be led back under the live oak, there is not one who will be surprised to see the dead body of Henry Poindexter scarce showing the incipient signs of decomposition. If there be any incredulity about the story just told them, it is not on this account; and they stand in impatient expectation, not because they require it to be confirmed.

Their impatience may be traced to a different cause--a suspicion, awakened at an early period of the trial, and which, during its progress, has been gradually growing stronger; until it has at length a.s.sumed almost the shape of a belief.

It is to confirm, or dissipate this, that nearly every man upon the ground--every woman as well--chafes at the absence of that witness, whose testimony is expected to restore the accused to his liberty, or consign him to the gallows tree.

Under such an impression, they stand interrogating the level line--where sky and savannah mingle the soft blue of the sapphire with the vivid green of the emerald.

CHAPTER NINETY FIVE.

THE LAST WITNESS.

The watchful air is kept up for a period of full ten minutes, and along with it the solemn silence.

The latter is at intervals interrupted by a word or exclamation--when some one sees, or fancies, a spot upon the prairie. Then there is a buzz of excitement; and men stand on tiptoe to obtain a better view.

Thrice is the crowd stirred by warnings that have proved false. Its patience is becoming exhausted, when a fourth salutes the ear, spoken in a louder voice and more confident tone.

This time the tale is true. There are shadows upon the skyline--shadows fast a.s.suming shape, substance, and motion.

A wild shout--the old Saxon ”huzza,” swells up among the branches of the live oak, as the figures of three hors.e.m.e.n emerging from the film of the sun-parched prairie are seen coming in the direction of the tree!

Two of them are easily recognised, as Zeb Stump and Ca.s.sius Calhoun.

The third still more easily: for far as eye can see, that fantastic form cannot be mistaken.

The first cry of the crowd, which but signalled the return of the two men, is followed by another, yet more significant--when it is seen that they are accompanied by a creature, so long the theme of weird thoughts, and strange conjecturings.

Though its nature is now known, and its cause understood still is it regarded with feelings akin to awe.

The shout is succeeded by an interregnum of silence--unbroken, till the three hors.e.m.e.n have come close up; and then only by a hum of whisperings, as if the thoughts of the spectators are too solemn to be spoken aloud.

Many go forward to meet the approaching cortege; and with wondering gaze accompany it back upon the ground.

The trio of equestrians comes to a halt outside the circle of spectators; which soon changes centre, closing excitedly around them.

Two of them dismount; the third remains seated in the saddle.

Calhoun, leading his horse to one side, becomes commingled with the crowd. In the presence of such a companion, he is no longer thought of.

All eyes, as well as thoughts, dwell upon the Headless Horseman.

Zeb Stump, abandoning the old mare, takes hold of his bridle-rein, and conducts him under the tree--into the presence of the Court.

”Now, judge!” says he, speaking as one who has command of the situation, ”an' you twelve o' the jury! hyur's a witness as air likely to let a glimp o' daylight into yur dulliberashuns. What say ye to examinin'

_him_?”