by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.
The zambo had disappeared in the underwood almost at the same instantthat Carlos had mounted and galloped out through the avenue. Not aliving creature remained in the glade.
The huge body lay with arms outstretched, one of them actually acrossthe blazing pile! Its weight, pressing down the faggots, half-obscuredtheir light. Enough there was to exhibit the ghastly face mottled withwashes of crimson. There was no motion in either body or limbs--no morethan in that of the counterfeit form that was near. Dead was the yellowhunter--dead! The hot flame that licked his arm, preparing to devourit, gave him no pain. Fire stirs not the dead!
Where were the others? They had gone off in directions nearly opposite!Were they flying from each other?
The zambo had gone back in the same direction whence he had come. Hehad gone in a very different manner though. After disappearing behindthe leafy screen, he had not halted, but rushed on like one terrifiedbeyond the power of controlling himself. The cracking of dead sticks,and the loud rustling among the bushes, told that he was pressingthrough the grove in headlong flight. These noises had ceased--so, too,the echo of hoofs which for a while came back from the galloping horseof the cibolero.
Where were they now--zambo and cibolero? Had they fled from each other?It would have seemed so from the relative directions in which they hadgone.
It was not so in reality. Whatever desire the zambo might have felt toget away from that spot, his antagonist had no such design. The latterhad galloped out of the glade, but not in flight.
He knew the zambo well enough to tell that his courage was now gone.The sudden loss of his comrade, and under such mysterious circumstances,had terrified the black, and would paralyse him almost beyond the powerof resistance. He would think of nothing else but making his escape.Carlos knew that.
The quick intellect of the latter had taught him whence his enemies hadcome--from the lower or southern side of the grove. He had, indeed,been loosing for them in that direction, and, while scrutinising theunderwood, had given most attention to that edge of the glade lying tothe south. He conjectured that they would deem this the safest way toapproach him, and his conjectures proved true.
Their horses would be left at some distance off, lest the stroke oftheir hoofs might alarm him. This, too, was his conjecture, and a justone. Still another, also just, was that the zambo was now making forthe horses! This last occurred to Carlos as he saw the other rushingoff into the underwood.
Just what the zambo was doing. Seeing his leader fall so mysteriously,he thought no longer of an encounter. Flight was his only impulse--toget back to the horses, mount and ride off, his one purpose. He hadhopes that Carlos would not hastily follow--that he might escape undercover of the darkness.
He was mistaken. It was just to defeat this purpose that Carlos hadgalloped forth. He, too, was resolved to make for the horses!
Once in the open plain, he wheeled to the right, and rode round thegrove. On reaching a point where he could command a view of the riverhe reined up. His object in doing so was to reload his rifle.
He threw the piece into a vertical position, at the same time gropingfor his powder-horn. To his surprise he could not get his hands uponit, and on looking down he saw that it was gone! The strap by which ithad been suspended was no longer over his shoulders. It had been caughtupon a branch, and lifted off as he had leaped from the tree!
Annoyed with this misfortune, he was about turning his horse to hurryback to the live-oak, when his eye fell upon a dark figure gliding overthe plain, and close in to the fringe of willows by the river. Ofcourse it was the fleeing zambo--there could be no doubt of that.
Carlos hesitated. Should he return for the powder-horn, and then wastetime in reloading, the zambo might escape. He would soon reach thehorses, and mount. Had it been day Carlos could easily have overtakenhim, but not so under the night darkness. Five hundred yards' startwould have carried him safe out of sight.
The cibolero was full of anxiety. He had ample reasons to wish thatthis man should die. Prudence as well as a natural feeling of revengeprompted this wish. The cowardly manner in which these hired ruffianshad dogged him had awakened his vengeance. Besides, while either lived,the outlaw knew he would have a dangerous enemy. The zambo must notescape!
It was but for a moment that Carlos hesitated. Should he wait to reloadhis rifle the other would get off. This reflection decided him. Hedropped the piece to the ground, turned his horse's head, and shotrapidly across the plain in the direction of the river. In a dozenseconds he reined up in front of his skulking foe.
The latter, seeing himself cut off from the horses, halted and stood atbay, as if determined to fight. But before Carlos could dismount toclose with him, his heart once more gave way; and, breaking through thewillows, he plunged into the river.
Carlos had not calculated upon this. He stood for some moments in astate of surprise and dismay. Would the fiend escape him? He had cometo the ground. Whether should he mount again or follow on foot?
He was not long irresolute. He chose the latter course, and, rushingthrough the willows where the other had passed, he paused a moment onthe edge of the stream. Just then his enemy emerged upon the oppositebank, and, without a moment's halt, started off in full run across theplain. Again Carlos thought of following on horseback, but the bankswere high,--a horse might find it difficult to ford at such a place,--perhaps impossible. There was no time to be lost in experiments.
"Surely," thought Carlos, "I am swift as he. For a trial then!"
And as he uttered the words he flung himself broad upon the water.
A few strokes carried him across the stream; and, climbing out on theopposite bank, he sprang after his retreating foe.
The zambo had by this time got full two hundred yards in the advance,but before he had run two hundred more, there was not half that distancebetween them. There was no comparison in their speed. Carlos fairlydoubled upon his terrified antagonist, although the latter was doing hisutmost. He knew that he was running for his life.
Not ten minutes did the chase continue.
Carlos drew near. The zambo heard his footsteps close behind. He feltit was idle to run any longer. He halted, and once more stood at bay.
In another instant the two were face to face, within ten feet of eachother!
Both were armed with large knives--their only weapons--and, dim as thelight was, the blades of these could be seen glittering in the air.
The foes scarce waited to breathe themselves. A few angry exclamationspassed between them; and then, rushing upon each other, they clutched inearnest conflict!
It was a short conflict. A dozen seconds would have covered its wholeduration. For a while, the bodies of the combatants seemed turnedaround each other, and one of them fell heavily upon the plain. A groanwas uttered. It was in the voice of the zambo. It was he who hadfallen!
The prostrate form wriggled for a moment over the ground--it half roseand fell again--then writhed for a few seconds longer, and then laystill in death!
The cibolero bent over it to be assured of this. Death was written uponthe hideous face. The marks were unmistakeable. The victor no longerdoubted; and, turning away from the corpse, he walked back towards theriver.
Having regained his rifle and powder-horn, and reloaded his gun, Carlosnow proceeded to search for the horses.
These were soon found. A bullet was sent through the head of thebloodhound, and another through that of his more wolf-like companion,and the horses were then untied and set free.
This done, Carlos once more returned to the glade, and, after liftingCibolo down from his perch, he approached the fire, and gazed for amoment at the corpse of the yellow hunter. The fires were blazing morebrightly than ever. These were fed by human flesh!
Turning in disgust from the sight, the cibolero collected his garments,and, once more mounting into the saddle, rode off in the direction ofthe ravine.
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