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Silent Rifleman: A Tale of the Texan Prairies

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<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> THE PASSAGE OF THE BRAVO. The stars were beginning to grow pale in the heavens, and a faint greyish tint was creeping gradually upward from the Eastern horizon, and usurping the dark azure of the cloudless sky, when the light sleep of the Partisan was interrupted by the long, tremulous, low, whining of his favourite horse. He started to his feet in an instant, and listening eagerly, and again laying his ear to the ground, as on the previous evening, speedily became aware that a large body of horse was passing along the hard prairie, not far from the skirts of the timber. Instantly awakening the young lieutenant, and his dragoons, he bade them strike tent, load the mules, and saddle the chargers with the possible speed and silence, keeping their arms ready, for that danger was at hand. This done, he took up his trusty rifle, and stole away with a noiseless step to reconnoiter the party, which had now come so near that the clank of the steel scabbards against the stirrup irons was distinctly audible above the hollow sound of the horses' tramps. The noise, however, gradually died away, the troopers having evidently ridden down the outer edge of the forest to the Southward, without noticing the track left by the horses of our company. Within ten minutes, Pierre returned with a very serious countenance. "There are above a hundred of them," he said; "regular lancers of Carrera's band. They have gone Southward for the present; but we may expect them back within an hour, for they are evidently on the look-out for our trail, which they must have followed from the last bottom, and lost at night on the dry prairie; had the morning been one hour advanced, they must have seen it, and we should have been all killed before this time; for they make no prisoners." "There is no time to lose, then," said Gordon, hastily, looking with an anxious eye to the face of his wife, who was already equipped and ready to mount. "Let us get to horse at once, and put the river between them and us." "That is soon done, so far as we men are concerned," replied the Partisan; "but how do you get her across rivers such as this?" "We have an India-rubber pontoon here," he answered, pointing to a sort of oval bag of that material, depending from two air cylinders of the same stuff, which, when inflated, and distended by two or three short staves, form a rude boat. "Let her get in, in God's name!" replied the Partisan, "for all this takes time, and we have little enough of that to spare." And, with the words, he led his own horse, now fully accoutered, down to the shore, at the spot where he had watered the animal on the previous evening, followed by the dragoons, three of whom led the beasts, while one carried the light pontoon. Gordon brought up the rear, with his fair, delicate wife hanging upon his arm, and smiling with serene and beautiful confidence in the protection of her gallant husband. Arrived on the bank, all the dragoons mounted and entered the broad and rapid river, which could not at this spot have been less than five hundred yards in width. Three of them leading the pack mules and the lady's jinnet, and the fourth carrying in his hand the reel on which was wound the tough cord of twisted hide, by which the frail bark was to be drawn across the whirling current. So strong was the stream that, although the horses swam well and stoutly, and although the dragoons were as well trained to the management of their horses in the water as on dry land, they were carried a great distance down the river before they were enabled to make the opposite bank. 9 Then with a bright eye and a cheerful smile on her lovely face, the soft and delicate young woman entered the frail vessel, which sunk so deeply in the water, even under her slight burthen, that the extreme edges only of the cylinders which supported it were visible above the surface of the swift glancing waters. Scarce was she landed, ere she was seated on the back of her beautiful and docile palfrey, which, recruited by its night's rest and plentiful pasture, pawed the earth, eager to be once more in motion. Gordon had already ridden a yard or two into the river, when he was attracted by the singular aspect and expression of the Partisan. Both horse and man stood like statues. The charger's fine limbs positively trembled with excitement; his small, thin ears were pricked acutely forward; his large eyes <ins title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'delated'">dilated</ins>; and his nostrils distorted to the utmost, and as red as blood. Pierre sat erect in his saddle; gazing with his keen dark eye into the recesses of the forest, his left hand raised to his ear, for he had let fall his reins on the disciplined charger's neck, and his cocked rifle ready in the right. The next instant, a single Mexican came into view, wheeling his small but fiery horse round the thicket, which had sheltered their encampment, at full gallop. The rifle of the Partisan rose slowly, and, with a steady motion, to his shoulder, and there remained as still and firm as though it and the extended arm which supported it, had been wrought in bronze or iron. And now the ranchero—for such he seemed to be—was within forty yards of Pierre, when he saw the horse, the man, the levelled rifle—when he recognized the being he most feared on earth—the far-famed Partisan. Wheeling his horse in an instant, by dint of his cruel massive bit, which threw him on his haunches, as if by magic, the terrified wretch turned to fly in the direction of the troopers, who had gone down to the southward, and were not probably even now more than a mile distant. Satisfied by the man's flight that he was unsupported, Pierre rapidly uncocked his rifle, and threw it to the ground, turning as he did so to forbid Gordon—who had unslung his carbine, and now half suspecting treachery in his guide, was raising it to his eye—from firing. "Not for your life!" he cried—"not for your life! Cross the river, and ride westward. I will deal with this dog." And, with the word, gathering up the reins in his left hand, he gave Emperor the spur so suddenly that he bounded six feet into the air, with all his feet together, and dashed at once into his tearing gallop. Meanwhile the rider had uncoiled the lasso, which hung from the pummel of his saddle, and whirling it around his head in the true Spanish fashion, thundered along in pursuit of the fugitive at a tremendous pace. The Mexican had, it is true, some fifty yards the start of his pursuer, and knowing that he was riding for his life, or at least for his liberty, plied his long-roweled spurs with desperate energy. On drove the Emperor, covering sixteen feet at every stroke, and gaining every second upon the trembling fugitive. Now he was within twenty yards distance, when the ranchero, turning in his saddle, deliberately levelled his escopeta at the Partisan. In another moment his carbine would have been discharged, and the alarm communicated to the other troopers; but ere he could pull the trigger, the Partisan wheeled Emperor by a quick movement of his hand and thigh, and hurled the tremendous missile as sure and almost as swift as his own unerring bullet. Aimed by an eagle eye, and launched by a master hand, the terrible noose of the lasso encircled both the forelegs of the Mexican horse as he sprang forward, was drawn taut on the instant by the very speed of the trammelled captive, and hurled horse and rider headlong to the earth, with a violence which left both for an instant senseless. The next moment Pierre leaped from his saddle and sprang upon his captive. 10 "Life!" he cried, piteously, in Spanish, "life, for the love of God, and the most holy Virgin! For charity, give me my life, Senor American!" "Mount your horse, fool!" replied the Partisan, sternly, "who the devil do you think would trouble himself to take such a miserable life as yours." Admonished thus, the man climbed awkwardly to his saddle, and when once there was secured in his seat by Pierre, who, cutting the lasso from the Mexican saddle, fastened his feet with it under his horse's belly, though not so tightly as to deprive him of the necessary command of the animal. This done, he released his arms, and bidding him in a stern, quiet voice followed him close and silently, if he did not desire to be strangled, he leaped lightly into his own saddle, and cantered back toward the river, followed by his captive, who took admirable care to keep so nigh to his conqueror that the strain of the harsh cord about his neck should not be drawn any tighter. In the meantime, Lieutenant Gordon, who had first watched the chase with some apprehension, and very great anxiety lest the fugitive should escape, had no sooner seen the lasso hurled, and the downfall of man and horse, than, perfectly content to trust all to the skill and judgment of a man who had exhibited such readiness of thought and action, he addressed himself to obey his directions; and, putting his horse steadily down the bank into the river, swam it gallantly, holding his pistols above his head in his right hand, in order to keep the powder dry in case of future emergency. Before he was half way across, the Partisan came up at a brisk, hard canter, with his trembling prisoner in tow, whose sword, pistols, and escopeta he threw into the river, and then taking his own pistols from the holsters, and holding them aloft, like Gordon, plunged in himself and swam stoutly over, dragging the unfortunate ranchero in mortal terror after him. <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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