Part 15 (1/2)

In the midst of all, the last man is drawn up to the summit, but when landed there, they who draw him up see that the rope's noose is no longer round a living body, but a corpse, bleeding, riddled with bullets.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

DISTANCED--NO DANGER NOW.

Finding himself clear of the Indians, Henry Tresillian's heart beats high with hope; no mischance happening, he can trust Crusader to keep him clear. And now he turns his thoughts to the direction he should take. But first to that in which he is going, for he has galloped out of the encircling line through the nearest opening that caught his eye.

The foretaste of the moonlight enables him to see where he is--luckily, on the right track. The route to Arispe lies south-eastward, and the lake must be pa.s.sed at its upper or lower end. The former is the direct route, the other around about; but then there is the Indian camp to be got past, and others of the savages may be up and about. Still the wagon _corral_ is two or three hundred yards from the water's edge, which may give him a chance to pa.s.s between un.o.bserved, and, with unlimited confidence in his horse, he resolves upon risking it.

An error of judgment: he has not taken into account the _fracas_ behind, with the report of his own pistol, and that all this must have been heard by the redskins remaining in camp. It has nevertheless. The consequence being that ere he has got half round the upper end of the lake, he sees the plain in front of him thickly dotted with dark forms-- men on horseback--hears them shouting to one another. A glance shows him it is a gauntlet too dangerous to be run. The fleetness of his steed were no surety against gun-shots.

He reins up abruptly, and, with a wrench round, sets head west again, with the design to do what he should have done at first--turn the lake below.

The _detour_ will be much greater now: he has pa.s.sed a large elbow of it, which must be repa.s.sed to get around; but there is no alternative, and, regretting his mistake, he makes along the back track at best speed. Not far before finding further reason to be sorry for his blunder. On that side, too, he sees mounted men directly before him-- those he had lately eluded. They are scattered all over the plain, apparently in search of him, some riding towards the lake's lower end, thinking he has gone that way. But all have their eyes on him now, and place themselves in position to intercept him. His path is beset on every side, the triumphant cries of the Coyoteros proclaiming their confidence that they have him at last--sure to capture or kill him now.

And his own heart almost fails him: go which way he will, it must be through a shower of bullets.

Again he reins up, and sits in his saddle undecided. The risk seems equal, but it must be run; there is no help for it.

Ha! yes, there is. A thought has flashed across his brain--a memory.

He remembers having seen the camp animals wading the lake through and through; not over belly-deep. Why cannot Crusader?

With quick resolve he sets his horse's head for the water, and in a second or two after the animal is up to the saddle-girths, plunging lightly as if it were but fetlock-deep.

Another cry from the Indians on both sides--surprise and disappointment mingled; in tones telling of their belief in the supernatural, and come back.

But soon they, too, recall the shallowness of the lake, and see nothing strange in the fugitive attempting to escape across it. So, without loss of time, they again put their horses to speed, making to head him on its eastern sh.o.r.e.

They are as near as can be to succeeding. A close shave it is for the pursued messenger, who, on emerging from the water, sees on either flank hors.e.m.e.n hastening towards him. But he is not dismayed. Before any of them are within shot range he dashes onward; Crusader, with sinews braced by the cool bath, showing speed which ensures him against being overtaken.

He is pursued, nevertheless. The subtle savages know there are chances and mischances. One of the latter may arise in their favour; and hoping it will be so, they continue the chase.

The moon is now up, everything on the level _llano_ distinguishable for miles, and the black horse with his pale-faced rider is still less than twenty lengths ahead; so after him they go, fast as their mustangs can be forced.

Only to find that in brief time the twenty lengths have become doubled, then trebled, till in fine they see that it is fruitless to carry the pursuit further.

With hearts full of anger and chagrin, they give it up. Some apprehension have they as well. El Zopilote is not with them; what will he say on their returning empty-handed? what do? For it is now no mere matter of the catching of a horse; instead, more serious--a courier gone off to bring succour to the besieged.

Down-hearted and dejectedly they turn their horses' heads, and ride back for Nauchampa-tepetl.

Had the Coyoteros stuck to their faith in the probability of accidents and continued the pursuit, they might have overtaken Henry Tresillian after all. For scarce have they turned backs upon him when a mishap befalls him, not absolutely staying him in his course, but delaying him wellnigh an hour. He is making to regain the road which runs north from Arispe, at the point where the caravan, forced by want of water, had deflected from it to the Cerro Perdido. In daylight he could have ridden straight to it; for since then from the _mesas_ summit Pedro Vicente had pointed to guide-marks indicating the spot where his initials were carved upon the _palmida_. But in his haste now, amid the glamour of a newly-risen moon, the messenger has gone astray, only discovering it when his horse suddenly staggering forward comes down upon his knees, shooting him out of the saddle.

He is less hurt than surprised. Never before has Crusader made false step or stumble, and why now?

A moment reveals the reason: the ground has given way beneath, letting him down knee-deep into a hole, the burrow of some animal.

Fortunately, there are no bones broken, no damage done either to horse or rider; and the latter, recovering his seat in the saddle, essays to proceed. Soon to be a second time brought to a stand, though not now unhorsed. Crusader but lurches, keeping his legs, though again near going down.