Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 5, May 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 5, May 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Suddenly, as if actuated by a passing thought, he wheeled his horse
round, and joined his followers. Then, indeed, his voice was heard,
clear and distinct, and, from his commanding gestures, it was apparent
that he exercised supreme sway over the assembled warriors. At his word
the crowd dissolved, and keeping without the range of our rifles, they
formed a circle around us. It was no time for indecision; so, mounting
our horses, we formed a double line, back to back, each man with his
rifle or pistols ready. Then, indeed, imagination alone can depict the
fierce war-cries that issued from all around us, the rush of horses, and
the cloud of arrows that threatened annihilation to all. One of my
English companions fell from his horse at the first discharge. We
returned the fire with some effect, and, as a last hope, each for
himself, dashed fearlessly on the line as they closed upon us.
Darkness was just setting in, so our hope was to escape singly, and make
the best of our way back to the hacienda, if successful. The rush was
fearful. The bright knives of two enemies, on whom I dashed, glared in
my eyes; but fire-arms again proved their superiority: one fell, and the
stroke of the other but wounded my horse. Maddened with the pain of the
wound it had received, the noble horse I rode plunged forward, and, at a
tremendous speed, swept me in a moment beyond reach of a few stray
arrows aimed at me.
Still, yet still, I had a chance for my life. I thought of my
companions, but darkness hid every thing, beyond the space of a few
yards, from my view. On, on I dashed, plunging the long spurs, with
which my heels were armed, into the side of my willing steed. I could
perceive, by the voices behind, that many were in pursuit, and after a
mile or so had been passed over, I clearly discerned the voices gaining
on me, and from an occasional stagger of my horse, ascertained, but too
truly, that loss of blood was making him faint.
By this time it was completely dark, day having passed away with usual
tropical rapidity, and my resolve was made. Throwing myself on my feet,
I struck the noble brute that so far had saved me, and abandoned him to
his own head. Relieved of my weight, I depended on his keeping on some
distance before he could be overtaken by my pursuers. At the same time,
placing myself on my face, I trusted to being passed over
undiscovered—concealed, as I was, by the long grass. A minute had but
elapsed, when at least a score of horsemen rushed past, on either side
of me, inflicting no injury, but evidently urging, in the pursuit, their
comrades by voice and gesture.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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