The White Chief: A Legend of Northern Mexico

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.

  On arriving at the month of the ravine he halted--not in the middle ofthe plain, but under the shadow of the rocks--the same rocks where thehunters had placed themselves in ambush. He did not dismount, but satin his saddle, gazing up the canon, and listening for some token of theexpected pursuit.

  He had not been long in this spot when he perceived a dark objectapproaching him. It gave him joy, for he recognised Cibolo coming alonghis trail. The next moment the dog was by his stirrup. The cibolerobent down in his saddle, and perceived that the poor brute was badly cutand bleeding profusely. Several gashes appeared along his side, and onenear his shoulder exhibited a flap of hanging skin, over which the redstream was pouring. The animal was evidently weak from loss of blood,and tottered in his tracks.

  "Amigo!" said Carlos, "you have saved my life to a certainty. It's myturn to save yours--if I can."

  As he said this he dismounted, and, taking the dog in his arms, climbedback into the saddle.

  For a while he sat reflecting what to do, with his eyes turned in thedirection from which he expected the pursuit.

  He had now no doubt as to who were the occupants of the cave. The bayof the hound was satisfactory evidence of the presence of the yellowhunter, and of course the zambo was along with him. Carlos knew of noother bloodhound in the settlement--the one heard must be that of themulatto.

  For some minutes he remained by the rocks, considering what course hehad best take.

  "I'll ride on to the grove," reflected he, "and hide in it till Antoniocomes. They can't track me this night--it will be too dark. The wholesky is becoming clouded--there will be no more moon to-night I can liehid all day to-morrow, if they don't follow. If they do, why, I can seethem far enough off to ride away. My poor Cibolo, how you bleed!Heavens, what a gash! Patience, brave friend! When we halt, yourwounds shall be looked to. Yes! to the grove I'll go. They won'tsuspect me of taking that direction, as it is towards the settlements.Besides they can't trail me in the darkness. Ha! what am I thinkingof?--not trail me in the darkness! What! I had forgotten thebloodhound! O God, preserve me! These fiends can follow me were it asdark as pitch! God preserve me!"

  An anxious expression came over his countenance, and partly from theburden he held in his arms, and partly from the weight of his thoughts,he dropped into an attitude that betokened deep depression. For thefirst time the hunted outlaw showed symptoms of despair.

  For a long while he remained with his head leaning forward, and his bodybent over the neck of his horse.

  But he had not yet yielded to despair.

  All at once he started up, as if some thought, suddenly conceived, hadgiven him hopes. A new resolution seemed to have been taken.

  "Yes!" he soliloquised, "I shall go to the grove--direct to the grove.Ha! you bloodthirsty yellow-skin, I'll try your boasted skill. We shallsee--we shall see. Maybe you'll get your reward, but not that you arecounting upon. You have yet something to do before you take the scalpof Carlos the cibolero!"

  Muttering these words he turned his horse's head, renewed his hold ofthe dog and the bridle, and set off across the plain.

  He rode at a rapid pace, and without casting a look behind him. Heappeared to be in a hurry, though it could not be from fear of beingovertaken. No one was likely to come up with him, so long as he kept onat such a pace.

  He was silent, except now and then when he addressed some kind word tothe dog Cibolo, whose blood ran over his thighs, and down the flanks ofthe horse. The poor brute was weak, and could no longer have kept hisfeet.

  "Patience, old friend!--patience!--you shall soon have rest from thisjolting."

  In less than an hour he had reached the lone grove on the Pecos--thesame where he had lately parted with Antonio. Here he halted. It wasthe goal of his journey. Within that grove he had resolved on passingthe remainder of the night, and, if not disturbed, the whole of thefollowing day.

  The Pecos at this point, and for many miles above and below, ran betweenlow banks that rose vertically from the water. On both sides its"bottom" was a smooth plain, extending for miles back, where it steppedup to a higher level. It was nearly treeless. Scattered clumps grew atdistant intervals, and along its margin a slight fringing of willows.This fringe was not continuous, but broken here and there by gaps,through which the water might be seen. The timber clumps were composedof cotton-wood trees and live-oak, with acacias forming an underwood,and occasionally plants of cactus growing near.

  These groves were so small, and so distant from each other, that theydid not intercept the general view of the surface, and a personoccupying one of them could see a horseman, or other large object, at agreat distance. A man concealed in them could not have been approachedby his enemy in daylight, if awake and watching. At night, of course,it was different, and the security then afforded depended upon thedegree of darkness.

  The "motte" at which the cibolero had arrived was far apart from any ofthe others, and commanded a view of the river bottom on both sides formore than a mile's distance. The grove itself was but a few acres insize, but the fringe of willows running along the stream at both endsgave it, when viewed from a distance, the appearance of a wood of largerdimensions. It stood upon the very bank of the stream, and the selvedgeof willows looked like its prolongation. These, however, reached but afew feet from the water's edge, while the grove timber ran out severalhundred yards into the plain.

  About this grove there was a peculiarity. Its central part was nottimbered, but open, and covered only with a smooth sward ofgramma-grass. It was, in fact, a glade, nearly circular in shape, andabout a hundred yards in diameter. On one side of this glade the riverimpinged, its bank being almost a tangent line to it. Here there was agap in the timber, so that out of the glade could be obtained a view ofthe bottom on the other side of the stream. Diametrically opposite tothis gap another opening, of an avenue-like form, led out into theadjacent plain, so that the grove was in reality bisected by an openline, which separated it into two groves, nearly equal in extent. Thisseparation could only be observed from certain positions in the plain--one on each side of the river.

  The glade, the avenue of a dozen yards loading from it to the outsideplain, and the plain itself, were all perfectly level, and covered witha smooth turf. Any object upon their surface would be easilyperceptible at a distance. The grove was thickly stocked withunderwood--principally the smaller species of "mezquite." There wasalso a network of vines and llianas that, stretching upward, twinedaround the limbs of the live-oaks--the latter forming the highest andlargest timber of all. The underwood was impenetrable to the eye,though a hunter could have crept through it in pursuit of game. Atnight, however, even under moonlight, it appeared a dark and impassablethicket.

  On one side of the glade, where the ground was dry and sandy, therestood a small clump of _pitahaya_ cactus. There were not over a dozenplants in all, but two or three of them were large specimens, sending uptheir soft succulent limbs nearly as high as the live-oaks. Standing bythemselves in massive columns, and so unlike the trees that surroundedthem, they gave a peculiar character to the scene; and the eye,unaccustomed to these gigantic candelabra, would scarce have known towhat kingdom of nature they belonged--so unlike were they to theordinary forms of vegetation.

  Such were the features of the spot where the hunted outlaw soughtshelter for the night.