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Chapter 40 - The Hunt of the Wild Horse by Mayne Reid

A Reinforcement

For the first time, since encountering the guerrilla, I breathed freely, and felt confident we should get free. My comrade shared my belief; and it is needless to say that we recrossed the summit of the mesa with lighter hearts and step more buoyant.

Of course we no longer speculated about making the descent; with the fragment of rope left, that was impossible. We were simply returning to the front, to keep an eye upon the guerrilleros, and, if possible, prevent them from approaching our horses—should they by any chance discover that we had retreated from our position behind the rock.

We were the more anxious about our horses, now that we had less apprehension for ourselves; at least I can answer for myself, and the explanation is easy. So long as I felt the probability that every moment might be the last of my life, the fate of Moro and the white steed was but a secondary consideration. Now that I felt certain I should survive this perilous escapade, the future once more urged its claims; and I was anxious not only to preserve my own steed, but the beautiful creature that had led me into all this peril, but whose capture still promised its rich reward.

That all danger was past—that in a few hours we should be free—was the full belief both of my companion and myself. Perhaps you may not comprehend from what data we drew so confident and comfortable a conclusion, though our reasoning was simple enough. We knew that Rube would reach the rancheria, and return with a rescue—that was all.

’Tis true we were not without some anxiety. The rangers might no longer be there?—the army might have marched?—perhaps the picket was withdrawn? Rube himself might be intercepted, or slain?

The last hypothesis gave us least concern. We had full trust in the trapper’s ability to penetrate to the American camp—to the enemy’s, if necessary. We had just been favoured with a specimen of his skill. Whether the army had advanced or not, Rube would reach it before morning, if he should have to steal a horse upon the way. He would soon find the rangers; and, even without orders, Holingsworth would lend him a few—half-a-dozen of them would be enough. In the worst view of the case, there were stragglers enough about the camp—odd birds, that could easily be enlisted for such a duty. We had scarcely a doubt that our comrade would come back with a rescue.

As to the time, we were left to conjectures. It might be before morning’s light—it might not be before late in the following day, or even the night after. But that was a consideration that now weighed lightly. We could hold our aerial fortress for a week—a month—ay, far longer, and against hundreds. We could not be assailed. With our rifles to guard the cliff, no storming-party could approach—no forlorn hope could scale our battlements!

But what of thirst and hunger, you will ask?

Ha! we dreaded not either. Fortune’s favours had fallen upon us in showers. Even on that lone summit, we found the means to assuage the one and satisfy the other!

In crossing the table-top, we stumbled upon huge echino-cacti, that grew over the ground like ant-hills or gigantic bee-hives. They were the mamillaria of Quackenboss—dome-shaped, and some of them ten feet in diameter.

Garey’s knife was out in a trice; a portion of the spinous coat of the largest was stripped off, its top truncated, and a bowl scooped in the soft succulent mass. In another minute we had assuaged our thirst from this vegetable fountain of the Desert.

With similar facility were we enabled to gratify the kindred appetite. As I had conjectured, on viewing them from the plain, the trees of light-green foliage were “piñons”—the “nut-pine” (Pinus edulis), of which there are several species in Northern Mexico, whose cones contain seeds edible and nutritious. A few handfuls of these we gathered, and hungered no more. They would have been better roasted, but at that moment we were contented to eat them raw.

No wonder, then, that with such a supply for the present, and such hopes for the future, we no longer dreaded the impotent fury of our foes.

We lay down at the top of the gorge to watch their further movements, and cover our horses from their attack.

The flash of the lightning showed them still on guard, just as we had left them. One of each file was mounted, while his companion, on foot, paced to and fro in the intervals of the cordon. Their measures were cunningly taken; they were evidently determined we should not steal past them in the darkness!

The lightning began to abate, and the intervals between the flashes became longer and longer.

During one of these intervals, we were startled by the sound of hoof-strokes at some distance off: it was the tramp of horses upon the hard plain.

There is a difference between the hoof-stroke of a ridden horse and one that is riderless, and the prairie-man is rarely puzzled to distinguish them. My companion at once pronounced the horses to be “mounted.”

The guerrilleros, on the alert, had heard them at the same time as we, and two of them had galloped out to reconnoitre. This we ascertained only by hearing, for we could not distinguish an object six feet from our faces—the darkness being almost palpable to the touch.

The sounds came from a considerable distance, but as they were continually growing more distinct we could tell that the horsemen were advancing toward the mesa.

We drew no hope from this advent. Rube could not yet have even reached the rancheria. The new-comers were El Zorro and his companion on their return.

We were not kept long in doubt: the horsemen approached, and shouts and salutations were exchanged between them and the guerrilleros, while the horses of both parties neighed in response, as if they knew each other.

At this moment the lightning shone again, and to our surprise we perceived not only El Zorro, but a reinforcement of full thirty men! The trampling of many hoofs had half prepared us for this discovery.

It was not without feelings of alarm that we beheld this accession to the enemy’s strength. Surely they would no longer hesitate to assail our fortress behind the rock? At least then our horses would be captured? Besides, Rube’s rescue might be too weak for such a force? There were now nearly fifty of the guerrilleros.

Our anxiety as to the first two points was soon at an end. To our astonishment, we perceived that no assault was to be made as yet. We saw them increase the strength of their cordon of sentries, and make other dispositions to carry on the siege.

Evidently they regarded us as hunters do the grizzly bear, the lion, or tiger—not to be attacked in our lair. They dreaded the havoc which they well knew would be made by our rifles and revolvers; and they determined to reduce us by starvation. On no other principle could we account for the cowardly continence of their revenge.

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