We rode slowly on, as already said, not desirous of yet overtaking the foe: we were allowing them time to depart from their noon halting-place.

We might have stopped there a while longer, but I could not submit to the repose of a halt. Motion, however slow, appeared progress, and in some measure hindered me from dwelling upon thoughts that only produced unnecessary pain.

Notwithstanding the incumbrance of their spoils, the Indians must have been travelling faster than we. They had no fear of foes to retard them; nought to require either spies or caution. They were now in their own country--in the very heart of the Comanche range--and in dread of no enemy. They were moving freely and without fear. We, on the contrary, had to keep our scouts in the advance; every bend of the road had to be reconnoitred by them, every bush examined, every rise of the ground approached with extreme care and watchfulness. These manoeuvres occupied time, and we moved slowly enough.

It was after mid-day when we arrived at the noon-camp of the savages.

The smoke, as before, warned us, and approaching under cover, we perceived that they were gone. They had kindled fires and cooked flesh.

The bones, clean picked, were easily identified, and the mid-day meal showed that there had been no change in the diet of these hippophagists: dinner and dejeuner had been alike--drawn from the same larder.

Again I searched the ground; but, as before, the eyes of the trapper proved better than mine.

"Hyur's a other billy-dux, young fellur," said he, handing me the paper.

Another leaf from the missal!

I seized it eagerly--eagerly I devoured its contents! This time they were more brief:

"_Once more I open my veins. The council meets to-night. In a few hours it will be decided whose property I am--whose slave--whose-- Santissima Maria! I cannot write the word. I shall attempt to escape.

They leave my hands free, but my limbs are tightly bound. I have tried to undo my fastenings, but cannot. O, if I but had a knife! I know where one is kept; I may contrive to seize it, but it must be in the last moment--it will not do to fail. Henri, I am firm and resolute; I do not yield to despair. One way or the other, I shall free myself from the hideous embrace of--They come--the villain watches me--I must_--"

The writing ended abruptly. Her jailers had suddenly approached.

The paper had evidently been concealed from them in haste; it had been crumpled up and flung upon the grass--for so was it when found.

We remained for a while upon the spot, to rest and refresh our horses; the poor brutes needed both. There was water at the place; and that might not be met with again.

The sun was far down when we resumed our march--_our last march along the war-trail_.

CHAPTER EIGHTY TWO.

AN "INJUN ON THE BACK-TRACK."

We had advanced about a mile farther, when our scouts--who, as usual, had gone forward to reconnoitre--having ascended a swell of the prairie, were observed crouching behind some bushes that grew upon its crest.

We all drew bridle to await the result of their reconnoissance. The peculiar attitude in which they had placed themselves, and the apparent earnestness with which they glanced over the bushes, led us to believe that some object was before their eyes of more than common interest.

So it proved. We had scarcely halted, when they were seen to retire suddenly from the cover, and rising erect, run at full speed back down the hill--at the same time making signals to us to conceal ourselves in the timber.

Fortunately, there was timber near; and in a few seconds we had all ridden into it, taking the horses of the trappers along with us.

The declivity of the hill enabled the scouts to run with swiftness; and they were among the trees almost as soon as we.

"What is it?" inquired several in the same breath.

"Injun on the back-track," replied the panting trappers.

"Indians!--how many of them?" naturally asked one of the rangers.

"Who slayed Injuns? We saved a Injun," sharply retorted Rube. "Damn yur palaver! thur's no time for jaw-waggin'. Git yur rope ready, Bill.

'Ee durned greenhorns! keep down yur guns--shootin' won't do hyur--yu'd hev the hul gang back in the flappin' o' a beaver's tail. You, Bill, rope the redskin, an let the young fellur help--he knows how; an ef both shed miss 'im, I ain't agwine. 'Ee hear me, fellurs? Don't ne'er a one o' ye fire: ef a gun ur wanted, Targuts 'll be surfficient, I guess.

For yur lives don't a fire them ur blunderboxes o' yourn till ees see me miss--they'd be heerd ten mile off. Ready wi' yur rope, Billee? You, young fellur? All right; mind yur eyes both an snare the durned niggur like a swamp-rabbit. Yanner he comes, right inter the trap, by the jumpin Geehosophat!"

The pithy chapter of instructions above detailed was delivered in far less time than it takes to read it. The speaker never paused till he had uttered the final emphatic expression, which was one of his favourite phrases of embellishment.

At the same instant I saw, just appearing above the crest of the ridge, the head and shoulders of a savage. In a few seconds more, the body rose in sight; and then the thighs and legs, with a large piebald mustang between them. I need scarcely add that the horse was going at a gallop; it is a rare sight when a horse-Indian rides any other gait.

There was only one. The scouts were sure of this. Beyond the swell stretched an open prairie, and if the Indian had had companions or followers, they would have been seen. He was alone.

What had brought him back on the trail? Was he upon the scout?

No; he was riding without thought, and without precaution. A scout would have acted otherwise.

He might have been a messenger; but whither bound? Surely the Indians had left no party in our rear?

Quickly these inquiries passed among us, and quick conjectures were offered in answer. The voyageur gave the most probable solution.

"Pe gar! he go back for ze sheel."

"Shield! what shield?"

"Ah, you no see 'im. I see 'im wiz me eye; he vas cache dans les herbes--von larzge sheel--bouclier tres gros--fabrique from ze peau of de buffle--ze parfleche--et garnie avec les scalps--frais et sanglants-- scalps Mexicaines. Mon Dieu!"

The explanation was understood. Le Blanc had observed a shield among the bushes where we had halted--like enough left behind by some of the braves. It was garnished with scalps, fresh Mexican scalps--like enough. The Indian had forgotten both his armour and his trophies; he was on his way to recover them--like enough.

There was no time either for further talk or conjecture; the red horseman had reached the bottom of the hill; in ten seconds more, he would be lazoed or shot!

Garey and I placed ourselves on opposite sides of the path, both with our lazoes coiled and ready. The trapper was an adept in the use of this singular weapon, and I too understood something of its management.

The trees were in our way, and would have prevented the proper winding of it; but it was our intention to spur clear of the timber--the moment the Indian came within range--and "rope" him on the run.

Rube crouched behind Garey, rifle in hand, and the rangers were also ready, in case both the lazoes and Rube's rifle should miss.

It would not do to let the Indian either go on or go back; in either case he would _report_ us. Should he pass the spot where we were, he would observe our tracks in a minute's time--even amidst the thousands of others--and would be certain to return by another route. Should he escape from us, and gallop away, still worse. He must not be permitted either to go on or go back; he must be captured or killed!

For my part, I desired that the former should be his destiny. I had no feeling of revenge to gratify by taking the life of this red man; and had his capture not been absolutely necessary to our own safety, I should willingly have let him come and go as he listed.

Some of my comrades were actuated by very different motives. Killing a Comanche Indian was, by their creed, no greater crime than killing a wolf, a panther, or a grizzly bear; and it was not from any motives of mercy that the trapper had cautioned the others to hold their fire; prudence alone dictated the advice--he had given his reason--the reports of our guns might be heard.

Through the leaves, I looked upon the horseman as he advanced. A fine-looking fellow he was--no doubt one of the distinguished warriors of his tribe. What his face was I could not see, for the war-paint disfigured it with a hideous mask; but his body was large, his chest broad and full, his limbs symmetrical, and well turned to the very toes.

He sat his horse like a centaur.

I had no opportunity for prolonged observation. Without hesitating, the Indian galloped up.

I sprang my horse clear of the timber. I wound the lazo around my head, and hurled it towards him; I saw the noose settling over his shoulders, and falling down to his hips.

I spurred in the opposite direction; I felt the quick jerk, and the taut rope told me I had secured the victim.

I turned in my saddle, and glanced back; I saw the rope of Garey around the neck of the Indian's mustang, tightened, and holding him fast.

Horse and horseman--both were ours!