The Wild Huntress: Love in the WildernessReid, Mayne
General
The Wild Huntress: Love in the Wilderness
Reid, Mayne
Latter Day Saint pioneers -- Fiction; Ute Indians -- Fiction
I was hindered from continuing the explanation. Just at that moment,
the led-horses were rushed up to: and those in charge of the wounded
were seen to spring to their backs. Here and there, a double mount
proclaimed that the disabled men were still capable of making a last
effort for their lives. All had got upon their horses, and in a
straggling crowd were making to join the main band; when, just at that
moment, one of the horses that carried two men was seen to swerve
suddenly from the line, and, heading up the valley, come galloping in
our direction. The horse appeared to have taken fright, and shied away
from the others; while the men upon his back were tossing and writhing
about, as if trying to restrain him! At the same instant, half-a-dozen
mounted Arapahoes were seen shooting forth from the crowd, and with loud
yells galloping in pursuit of the runaway! The double-loaded steed--a
powerful animal--kept on his course; but, not until he had approached
within three or four hundred paces of our own front, could I account for
this strange manoeuvre. Then was I enabled to comprehend the mysterious
escapade. The rider upon the croup was Frank Wingrove! He upon the
saddle was a red Arapaho. The bodies of the two men appeared to be
lashed together by a raw-hide rope; but, in front of the Indian, I could
perceive the muscular arms of the young backwoodsman tightly embracing
the chest of the savage, while with the reins in his fingers he was
guiding the gallop of the horse! With a shout of joy I hailed the
escape of my comrade, now no longer problematical. In a score of
seconds more, we should meet.
The pursuers--satisfied that his recapture was hopeless without risking
their own scalps--had already turned with a despairing shout, and were
galloping back. Wingrove was near enough to hear the cry of
encouragement that passed from my lips; and, soon recognising me,
despite the disguise of the serape, headed his horse directly towards
us.
"Hooraw, capt'n!" cried he, as he came up. "Hev you e'er a knife to cut
me clar o' this Indjun? Durn the niggur! I've got _him_ in a leetle o'
the tightest fix he's been in for a while, I reck'n. Dog-gone ye! keep
still, ye skunk, or I'll smash every rib in yur body! Quiet now!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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