Читать книгу Всадник без головы / The Headless Horseman онлайн | страница 20

“Come, Maurice!” cried the major, on seeing that all had assembled, “we’re ready to be conducted to the game. Ladies and gentlemen! this young fellow is thoroughly acquainted with the haunts and habits of the wild horses. If there’s a man in Texas, who can show us how to hunt them, it is Maurice the mustanger.”

“To the saddle!” was the thought upon every mind, and the cry upon every tongue when a drove of wild mares was seen in the distance. Before a hundred could have been deliberately counted, every one, ladies and gentlemen alike, was in the stirrup.

By this time the wild mares appeared coming over the crest of the ridge. They were going at mad gallop, as if fleeing from a pursuer – some dreaded creature that was causing them to snort! They were chased by donkey, almost as large as any of the mustangs.

“I must stop him!” exclaimed Maurice, “or the mares will run on till the end of daylight.”

Half a dozen springs of the blood bay, guided in a diagonal direction, brought his rider within casting distance; and like a flash of lightning, the loop of the lazo was seen descending over the long ears. Then the animal was seen to rise erect on its hind legs, and fall heavily backward upon the grass.

The incident caused a postponement of the chase. All awaited the action of the guide, when he suddenly sprang to his saddle with a quickness that betokened some new cause of excitement.

The cause for the eccentric change of tactics was that Louise Poindexter, mounted on the spotted mustang, had suddenly separated from the company, and was galloping off after the wild mares!

That unexpected start could scarcely be an intention – except on the part of the spotted mustang? Maurice had recognised the drove, as the same from which he had himself captured it: and, no doubt, with the design of rejoining its old associates, it was running away with its rider!

Stirred by gallantry, half the field spurred off in pursuit. But few, if any, of the gentlemen felt actual alarm. All knew that Louise Poindexter was a splendid equestrian. There was one who did not entertain this confident view. It was he who had been the first to show anxiety – the mustanger himself.