Part 10 (1/2)
This, from Pedro Vicente in his old spirit, as he points to the line of savages far extended.
The files have by this faced westward, but are advancing towards the stream; now, on nearing it, they are seen to stop abruptly as if in surprise. Then, after an instant, all wheel round and ride back eastward, till getting on their old line, they return at a gallop towards their camp. They have discovered the stream to be impa.s.sable.
”That horse is the _demonio_ himself,” says Pedro Vicente--”neither more nor less. He must have known they could not cross the swollen streamlet, or he'd never have stopped by it as he has done. But they've not given him up yet. No! see: they're going round by the head of the lake.”
Just this they intend, as is seen by their advancing towards the point where the lake commences by the mouth of the ravine. They have no difficulty in crossing its in-going stream, a few minutes after the rain ceased having reduced this to its normal condition of a tiny rivulet.
And like some dark, disagreeable vision Henry Tresillian sees pa.s.s before his eyes the savage cohort, file after file, one disappearing after another, till at length no animated form is observable on the plain below, save that their eyes have been hitherto regarding with interest.
There is a long interval without event; nearly an hour elapses ere Crusader shows any sign, his head almost continuously to the gra.s.s, raised only occasionally, as he changes place upon it. All this time the Indians are out of sight, with no sound coming from the direction they had taken.
But at length there is a sound, a startled neigh from the black horse, who, tossing his crest in air, rears upward with a curving sweep, and then darts straight away, as if in flight from an advancing enemy--the enemy seen instantly afterwards as several mounted men disclose themselves from the western framework of rock, all in a tail-on-end gallop.
Crusader has taken along the edge of the stream, and follows it in parallel direction downwards, just as he fled before from the same pursuers. There would seem no chance of their overtaking him now; for he appears to gain distance at every bound, without even straining himself. But lo! what is that?
”_Santos Dios_! They've headed him. _Milraya_! what a pity!”
It is the _gambusino_ who thus exclaims, seeing other hors.e.m.e.n on the plain farther points on, all facing towards the stream, evidently to intercept the chased steed.
Crusader sees them too, for he is now close up to them; but forsaking the course he has. .h.i.therto followed, he makes an abrupt turn and breaks off westward, continuing this direction in full gallop, till the rocks hide him from view.
Alike the pursuers thrown round, pa.s.s out of sight one after another, and again that part of the _llano_ resumes its wonted aspect of stern, savage tranquillity.
For most of those composing the party of spectators the chase had no particular interest, and only a few of them were gathered around the point where it could be viewed. Indeed, but a few heard of Crusader being seen, the greater and more serious event obscuring that of lesser note. And now these few, one after the other, again go back to _ojo de agua_, to take part in the duties of the day.
But the English youth still stays by the vidette post, with eye constantly directed on the plain below, and ears listening intently, to catch any sound that may come from the western side; apprehensively, too, for he fears to hear shots.
The savages failing to catch the black horse with their laryettes, may spitefully endeavour to bring him down with their guns. This, indeed, is the real clanger his young master has been dreading, and which for the time engrosses all his thoughts.
Luckily not for long. Within less than an hour the dusky hors.e.m.e.n, in twos and threes, come straggling back across the open ground between the lake's head and their camp, so continuing till the last of them have returned, all with discomfited air, but none with Crusader as their captive. And as no report of gun has been heard, it is more than probable he has once more eluded them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
LIFE ON THE LOST MOUNTAIN.
The exciting events above recorded, as occurring in quick succession, are followed by a period of repose lasting for days. Alike reigns it on the mountain summit and around its base; in the camp of the besieged as of the besiegers.
Withal, in the latter there is no lack of activity; parties go and come at all hours, but more especially during those of the night. Scouts sent out; it may be for many purposes. But one large detail is observed on a certain day to make the complete round of the mountain, every here and there halting with front towards it, as if for minute examination of its cliffs from base to summit; evidently to be satisfied whether there be any possible chance for the white men to reach the plain otherwise than down that chine cut by the watercourse.
While making this _reconnaissance_ they have been narrowly watched by eyes from above, and as no particular point has been observed to attract their attention, it is concluded that they deem their pale-faced prisoners quite secure, only calling for a little patience ere they may evidently lay hands on them.
The same movement also gives a.s.surance to their intended victims, but of a kind not so satisfactory. It tells them how determined their enemy is, how retentive his grasp, and implacable his vengeance. All this with no increased hope on their part of being able to escape him.
Thought of how has not yet taken shape in their minds. How could it?
So many present facts and fears engrossing them, they have found little time to reflect on the future.
And a new fear has now arisen which calls for steps to be taken. There may be other grizzly bears on the _mesa_, and if so these monsters will be prowling around the camp to a.s.sail it at any instant. Better they be met outside at a distance off, there attacked, and if possible exterminated.
This conclusion come to, Don Estevan gives orders for all to arm, and a general _battue_ is made over the summit of the Cerro. Paths are hacked through the underwood everywhere, laying open many a spot never before trodden by foot of man. Strange birds are flushed from their nests, and strange animals are seen stealing away through the thick tangle of _llianas_, chiefly of the reptilian order, as armadillos, lizards, the curious horned frog (_Agama cornuta_), and serpents--most numerous of all that whose retreat is marked by the defiant rattle which has given it its name. Scores of _cascabeles_ are started out of the dead leaves and branches, their vibratory ”skirr” resounding everywhere.