It concerns me first, because this young fellows a friend of mine, though he is Irish, and a stranger; and secondly, because Zeb Stump isnt going to stand by, and see foul play.
Foul play! Theres nothing of the sort. Boys! youre not going to be scared from your duty by such swagger as this? Lets make a finish of what weve begun. The blood of a murdered man cries out to us. Lay hold of the rope!
Do it one of you if you dare. You may hang this poor creature as high as you like; but not till youve laid Zebulon Stump stretched dead upon the grass, with some of you alongside of him.
Zebs speech is followed by a profound silence. The people keep their places partly from the danger of accepting his challenge, and partly from the respect due to his courage and generosity. Also, because there is still some doubt in the minds of the Regulators, both as to the expediency, and fairness, of the course which Calhoun is inciting them to take.
With a quick instinct the old hunter perceives the advantage he has gained, and presses it.
Give the young fellow a fair trial, urges he. Lets take him to the settlement, and have him tried there. Youve got no clue proof, that hes had any hand in the black business. I know how he felt towards young Poindexter. Instead of being his enemy, there isnt a man on this ground that had more of a liking for him.
The Regulator Chief says they have proof that there was bad blood[52] between Gerald and young Poindexter. But on hearing that the story about their quarrel was told by Calhoun, Zeb says he didnt believe a word of it. He also has facts thatll go a good way towards explication of this mysterious business.
What facts? demands the Regulator Chief. Lets hear them, Stump.
Theres more than one. First place what do you make of the young fellow being wounded himself? I dont talk of the scratches you see; I believe theyre done by coyotes that attacked him, after they saw he was wounded. But look at his knee. Something else than coyotes did that. What do you make of it, Sam Manly?
Well some of the boys here think theres been a struggle between him and the man thats missing.
Yes, thats he who we mean, speaks one of the boys referred to. Theyve had a fight, and the mustanger fell among the rocks. Thats whats given him the swelling in the knee. Besides, theres the mark of a blow upon his head looks like it had been the butt of a pistol.[53] As for the scratches, we cant tell whats made them. Thorns may be; or wolves if you like. That foolish fellow of his has a story about a tiger; but it wont do for us.
Zeb confirmed Phelims story about the jaguar and said hed seen the animal himself and saved the mustanger from its claws. When he was about to tell what he though about the Indians that had been in the hut, according to Phelim, the clattering of hoofs, borne down from the bluff, saluted the ear of everybody at the same instant of time.
Along the top of the cliff, and close to its edge, a horse is seen, going at a gallop. There is a woman a lady upon his back, with hat and hair streaming loosely behind her the string hindering the hat from being carried altogether away!
That woman equestrian man-seated in the saddle once seen was never more to be forgotten. It was Isidora who had thus strangely and suddenly shown herself. Why was she riding at such a dangerous pace?
Los Indios! Los Indios! comes the cry of the strange equestrian.
To those who hear it at the jacale it needs no translation. They know that she, who has given utterance to it, is pursued by Indians.
There are four of them going in full gallop, against the clear sky.
The leading savage has lifted the lazo from his saddle horn: he is winding it over his head! At this moment the sharp crack of a rifle comes echoing out of the glen, or perhaps a little sooner, as a stinging sensation in his wrist causes him to let go his lazo, and look wonderingly for the why!
A single glance is sufficient to cause a change in his tactics. He beholds a hundred men, with a hundred gun barrels!
His three followers see them at the same time; and as if moved by the same impulse, all four turn in their tracks, and gallop away from the cliff.
The sight of the savages has produced another quick change in the tableau formed in front of the mustangers hut. The majority who deemed Maurice Gerald a murderer has become transformed into a minority; while those who believed him innocent are now the men whose opinions are respected.
1) Who interrupted the stern ceremonial of death? Did she succeed in saving Maurice?
2) Who interrupted the trial for the second time?
3) How did the assembled party react to the old hunters words? What did he suggest?
4) Who was seen by the party? How did it change the state of affairs?
Chapter Twenty
Civilians who had gone in pursuit of the savages seen on the Alamo came back on the same day and reported: that no Indians had been there!
They came provided with proofs of their statement which consisted in a collection of miscellaneous articles wigs of horse-hair, cocks feathers stained blue, green, or scarlet, breech-clouts of buckskin, mocassins of the same material, and several packages of paint, all which they had found concealed in the hollow of a cottonwood tree!
There still were several subjects worth thinking and talking about. There was the arrival, still of recent date, of the most beautiful woman ever seen upon the Alamo; the mysterious disappearance and supposed assassination of her brother; the yet more mysterious appearance of a horseman without a head; the story of a party of white men playing Indian; and last, though not of least interest, the news that the suspected murderer had been caught, and was now inside the walls of their own guardhouse[54]mad as a maniac!
Zeb Stump headed his horse in the direction of the Port.
The old hunter had no difficulty in obtaining an interview with the military chief of Fort Inge. Looked upon by the officers as a sort of privileged character, he had the entree at all times, and could go in without countersign. The adjutant announced his name to the major commanding the cantonment.
From his first words, the latter appeared to have been expecting him.
Ah! Mr Stump! Glad to see you so soon. Have you made any discovery in this queer affair? From your quick return, I can almost say you have. Something, I hope, in favour of this unfortunate young fellow. Notwithstanding that appearances are strongly against him, I still adhere to my old opinion that hes innocent. What have you learnt?
Well, Major, answered Zeb, removing his hat; what Ive learnt isnt much, though enough to fetch me back to the Fort; where I didnt intend to come, till Id gone a bit of a journey across the prairies. I came back here to have a word with you.
Zeb told the major that he was going to make a short excursion across to the Nueces and asked him to keep back the trial. The old hunter had his own ideas concerning the case and needed time to verify them.
Can you promise me three days? Before the trial comes on? asked Zeb.
I think there will be no difficulty about that. I shall undertake to do that.
The hunter strode out of head-quarters, and made his way back to the place where he had left his old mare.
On reaching the outskirts of Poindexters plantation, he left the low lands of the Leona bottom, and spurred his old mare against the steep slope ascending to the upper plain.
Its no use beginning near the Fort or the town. The ground about both on them is paddled with horse tracks. Id better strike out into the prairie at once, and take a track crossways of the Rio Grande route. By doing that I may fluke on the footmark Im in search of. Yes! thats the most sensible idea.
In the midst of the open prairie there is a coppice, or clump of trees of perhaps three or four acres in superficial extent. About two hundred yards from its edge a horse is quietly pasturing. He is the same that carries the headless rider.
The weird equestrian seems indifferent to a score of large dark birds that swoop in shadowy circles around his shoulders. Three times one of the birds has alighted upon him first upon the right shoulder, then upon the left, and then midway between upon the spot where the head should be!
The weird equestrian seems indifferent to a score of large dark birds that swoop in shadowy circles around his shoulders. Three times one of the birds has alighted upon him first upon the right shoulder, then upon the left, and then midway between upon the spot where the head should be!
This scene was seen by human eyes; and they belong to the only man in all Texas who had arrived at something like a comprehension of the all-perplexing mystery.
He gazed upon it from the shore of the prairie-island; himself unseen under its shadows, and apparently endeavouring to remain so.
His eye was upon the Headless Horseman, his whole soul absorbed in watching the movements of the latter.
If hed only come twenty yards nearer, I could fetch him. My gun wont carry that distance. Id miss him for sure, and then itll be all up. I may never get the chance again.
Leaning forward, so as to get a good view through the trees, the speaker continued to scan the strange shape.
Its his horse sure as shooting! His saddle, serape, and all. How the hell could they have come into the possession of the other?
Another pause of reflection.
Trick, or no trick, its an ugly business. Whoevers planned it, must know all that happened that night; and by God, if that thing got stuck there, Ive got to get it back.
Drawing a little closer to the edge of the thicket, the speaker pronounced that call usually employed by Texans to summon a straying horse.
Proh-proh-proshow! Come kindly! come, old horse!
The Texan steed did not seem to understand the invitation; at all events, as an invitation to friendly companionship. On the contrary, it had the effect of frightening him. And the horse carried his rider straight off over the prairie.
A bitter curse escaped from the lips of the unsuccessful stalker as he spurred out into the open ground.
Still more bitter was his oath, as he beheld the Headless Horseman passing rapidly beyond reach unscathed by the bullet he had sent to earnestly after him.
Like an archaeologist engaged upon a tablet of hieroglyphic history, Zeb Stump strode on, translating the sign of the prairie. Alone to the turf beneath his feet was his eye and attention directed.