The White Chief: A Legend of Northern MexicoReid, Mayne
History
The White Chief: A Legend of Northern Mexico
Reid, Mayne
Southwest, New -- History -- Fiction
The best of these were appropriated by the intruders; and then, after
fastening their horses in a secure corner, and making themselves
thoroughly acquainted with the shape and position of the rocky interior,
the light was extinguished, and, like beasts of prey, they placed
themselves in readiness to receive their unsuspecting victim.
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.
Carlos, on leaving his cave, proceeded with the caution natural to one
circumstanced as he was. But this night he was more than usually
careful. He scanned every bush and rock that stood near his path, and
that might have sheltered an enemy. Why to-night more cautious than
before? Because a suspicion had crossed his mind--and that, too, having
reference to the very men who were at the moment in ambush so near him!
At various times of late had his thoughts reverted to these men. He
knew them well, and knew the hostile feelings with which both, but
particularly the mulatto, regarded him. He thought of the probability
of their being set upon his trail, and he knew their capability to
follow it. This had made him _more_ uneasy than all the scouting of the
dragoons with their unpractised leaders. He was aware that, if the
cunning mulatto and his scarce less sagacious comrade were sent after
him, his cave would not shelter him long, and there would be an end to
his easy communication with the settlement.
These thoughts were sources of uneasiness; and would have been still
more so, had he not believed that the hunters were absent upon the
plains. Under this belief he had hopes of being able to settle his
affairs and get off before their return. That morning, however, his
hopes had met with discouragement.
It was a little after daylight when he returned to his hiding-place.
Antonio, watched closely by the spies, had not been able to reach the
rendezvous until a late hour,--hence the detention of Carlos. On going
back to his cave he had crossed a fresh trail coming in from the
northern end of the Llano Estacado. It was a trail of horses, mules,
and dogs; and Carlos, on scrutinising it, soon acquainted himself with
the number of each that had passed. He knew it was the exact number of
these animals possessed by the yellow hunter and his comrade; and this
startled him with the suspicion that it was the return trail of these
men from their hunt upon the prairies!
A further examination quite assured him of the truth of this. The
footprints of one of the dogs differed from the rest; and although a
large one, it was not the track of the common wolf-dog of the country.
He had heard that the yellow hunter had lately become possessed of a
large bloodhound. These must be _his_ tracks!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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