Читать книгу Всадник без головы / The Headless Horseman онлайн | страница 14
The individual was apparently about fifty years of age, with a complexion inclining to dark, and features that, at first sight, exhibited a grave aspect.
It was Zebulon Stump, or “Old Zeb Stump,” as he was better known to the very limited circle of his acquaintances.
“Kentuckian, by birth and raising,”—as he would have described himself, if asked the country of his nativity. The hunter had passed the early part of his life among the forests of the Lower Mississippi; and now, at a later period, he was living and hunting in the wilds of south-western Texas.
The behaviour of the staghound told of a friendly acquaintance between Zeb Stump and Maurice the mustanger.
“Evening!” laconically saluted Zeb.
“Good evening, Mr Stump!” rejoined the owner of the hut, rising to receive him. “Step inside, and take a seat! On foot, Mr Stump, as usual?”
“No: I got my old creature out there, tied to a tree.”
“Let Phelim take her round to the shed. You’ll have something to eat? Phelim was just getting supper ready. I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything very dainty. I’ve been so occupied, for the last three days, in chasing a very curious mustang, that I never thought of taking my gun with me.”
“What sort of a mustang?” inquired the hunter.
“A mare; with white spots on a dark chocolate ground – a splendid creature!”
“That’s the very business that’s brought me over to you. I’ve seen that mustang several times out on the prairie, and I just wanted you to go after her. I’ll tell you why. I’ve been to the Leona settlements since I saw you last, and since I saw her too. Well, there has come a man that I knew on the Mississippi. He is a rich planter, his name is Poindexter.”
“Poindexter?”
“That is the name – one of the best known on the Mississippi from Orleans to Saint Louis. He was rich then; and, I reckon, isn’t poor now – seeing as he’s brought about a hundred niggers along with him. Beside, there’s his nephew, by name Calhoun. He’s got the dollars, and nothing to do with them but lend them to his uncle – the which, for a certain reason, I think he will. Now, young fellow, I’ll tell you why I wanted to see you. That planter has got a daughter, she’s fond of horses. She heard me telling her father about the spotted mustang; and nothing would content her there and then, till he promised he’d offer a big price for catching the creature. He said he’d give a couple of hundred dollars for the animal. So, saying nothing to nobody, I came over here, fast as my old mare could fetch me.”