Chapter 95 - The Hunt of the Wild Horse by Mayne Reid
Measuring the Chances
The situation in which I was placed by chance, could not have been better had I deliberately chosen it. I had under my eyes the council fire and council, the groups around—in short, the whole area of the camp.
What was of most importance, I could see without being seen. Along the edge of the copse there extended a narrow belt of shadow, similar to that which had favoured me while in the channel, and produced by a like cause—for the stream and the selvage of the grove were parallel to each other. The moonbeams fell obliquely upon the grove; and, under the thick foliage of the pecans, I was well screened from her light behind—while the lodge covered me from the glare of the fire in front.
I could not have been better placed for my purpose. I saw the advantage of the position, and resolved therefore to abide in it.
The observations and reflections thus given in detail occupied me but a few minutes of time. Thought is quick, and at that crisis mine was more than usually on the alert. Almost instantaneously did I perceive the points that most interested me, or had reference to my plans; almost instantaneously I had mastered the situation, and I next bent my mind upon the way to take advantage of it.
I saw there was but one way to proceed: my original scheme must be carried cut. Under so many eyes, there was not the slightest chance that the captive could be stolen away; she must be taken openly, and by a bold stroke. Of this was I convinced.
The question arose, when should I make the attempt? At that moment?
She was not ten paces from where I stood! Could I rush forward, and with my knife set free her limbs? Might we then get off before the savages could fling themselves upon us?
Hopeless—impossible! She was too near them; she was too near the renegade who claimed her as his property.
He was standing almost over her, within distance of a single leap. In his belt I saw the long triangular blade of a Spanish knife. He could have cut me down ere I could have severed a cord of her fastenings. The attempt would fail; success was hopeless—impossible. I must wait for a better opportunity; and I waited.
I remembered Rube’s last word of counsel, not to act too hastily—and his reasons, that if I must make a “desprit strike for it,” to leave the grand coup to the last moment. The circumstances could be no more unfavourable then than now.
Under the influence of this idea, I checked my impatience, and waited.
I watched Hissoo-royo; I watched the squatted forms around the fire; I watched the straggling groups behind them. In turn, my eyes wandered from one to the other. At intervals, too, they rested upon Isolina.
Up to this moment I had not seen her countenance; I saw only the reverse of that beautiful image so deeply graven upon my heart. But even then—under that suspense of peril—strange thoughts were passing within me. I felt a singular longing to look upon her face; I remembered the herredero.
It pleased fortune to smile upon me. So many little incidents were occurring in my favour, that I began to believe the fates propitious, and my hopes of success were growing stronger apace.
Just then the captive turned her head, and her face was towards me. There was no mark on that fair brow; that soft cheek was without a scar; the delicate skin was intact, smooth, and diaphanous as ever. The herredero had been merciful!
Perhaps something had occurred to interrupt or hinder him from his horrid work?
I prayed that the matador had met with a similar interruption! I could not tell—those profuse clusters covered all—neck, bosom, and shoulders—all were hidden under the dark dishevelment. I could not tell, but I did not dare to hope. Cyprio had seen the blood!
It was but a momentary glance, and her face was again turned away.
At intervals she repeated it, and I saw that she looked in other directions. I could note the uneasiness of her manner; I could tell why those glances were given; I knew her design. O for one word in her hearing—one whisper!
It might not be; she was too closely watched. Jealous eyes were upon her; savage hearts were gloating over her beauty. No word could have reached her, that would not have been heard by others—by all around the fire—for the silence was profound. The “council” had not yet essayed to speak.
The stillness was at length broken by the voice of a crier, who in a shrill tone proclaimed that the “council was in session.”
There was something so ceremonious in the whole proceedings, and every movement was made with such regularity, that but for the open air, the fire, the wild savage costumes, and fierce painted faces, I might have fancied myself in the presence of a civilised court, and witnessing a trial by jury! It was in effect just such a trial, though judge there was none. The members of the jury were themselves the judges—for in the simplicity of such primitive litigation, each was presumed to understand the law without an interpreter.
Pleaders, too, were equally absent; each party—plaintiff and defendant—was expected to plead his own case. Such is the simple fashion in the high court of the prairies—a fashion which might elsewhere be adopted with advantage.
The name of “Hissoo-royo” pealed upon the air. The crier was calling him into court—another parallel with the customs of civilisation!
Three times the name was pronounced, at each repetition in louder voice than before.
The man might have spared his breath; he who was summoned was upon the spot, and ready to answer.
Before the echo died away, the renegade uttered a response; and, stepping to an open space within the ring, halted, drew himself up to his full height, folded his arms, and in this attitude stood waiting.
At that crisis the thought occurred to me, whether I should rash forward, and at once decide the fate of myself and my betrothed. The seated warriors appeared to be all unarmed; and the renegade—whose hand I most regarded—was now farther off, having gone round to the opposite side of the fire. The situation was favourable, and for a moment I stood straining upon the spring.
But my eye fell upon the spectators in the background; many of them were directly in the way I should have to take; I saw that many of them carried weapons—either in their hands, or upon their persons—and Hissoo-royo himself was still too near.
I could never fight my way against such odds. I could not break such a line—it would be madness to attempt it. Rube’s counsel was again ringing in my ears; and once more I abandoned the rash design.