While thus engaged, the mustang tugged at the rope, as if wishing to free himself. He must have felt that he was controlled by a strange hand, but his efforts were easily restrained.
As nearly as Avon could judge, he had travelled more than two miles since leaving the cabin, so that, provided he had followed 81 the proper course, he must have passed half the distance. But if that were the case, he ought to see signs of the camp. It is the custom of the cattlemen, when on the move, to keep a lantern suspended from the front of the provision wagon, to serve as a guide for the rest, and this ought to be visible for several miles to one in his elevated position.
Holding the thong in one hand, the youth now pointed his Winchester toward the sky and discharged several barrels, in the hope that the reports would reach the ears of the Texans and bring a response from them. The mustang did not stir a muscle; he was so accustomed to that sort of thing that his nerves were not disturbed.
This appeal was equally futile, and, as Avon flung himself again upon the back of his horse, a feeling akin to despair came over him.
“Perhaps it was quite an exploit to get through the Comanche lines without harm,” he said to himself, “but of what avail? I shall wander round and round until daylight, with no more knowledge of where I am than 82 if I were groping among the Rocky Mountains; and, long before the rise of sun, the fate of Uncle Dohm and the folks will be settled.”
A feeling of exasperation succeeded his depression of spirits. It was beyond endurance that he should be so near help and yet be unable to secure it. If he could but gain an inkling of the right course, he would dart across the prairie with the speed of an arrow.
He had neglected no possible means of informing himself. Recalling the direction of the wind, he strove to make use of that; but as if even the elements had united against him, he was not long in discovering that the wind was fitful and changing, and his attempt to use it as a guide had much to do with his going so far astray.
The rifle was discharged again, but the listening ear caught no response, and the conviction forced itself upon him that, instead of journeying toward the camp, he was really further from it than when he started.
The mustang began to grow restless once more. Avon spoke sharply, and started him 83 off without any attempt to guide him. To his surprise, the steed turned to the left almost at right angles, and without any urging on his part, broke into a canter.
“I don’t understand that,” said the rider; “he certainly knows more than I do, but it is too much to expect him to carry me to my destination without any direction from me. But he is as likely to be right as wrong, and so I’ll let him do as he chooses. You’re a mighty fine animal,” continued the youth, as the steed broke into a gallop, “but I wouldn’t give Thunderbolt for a hundred like you; he knows something, and when I’m caught in a fix like this, he is sure to help me out.”