He ran lightly forward toward this vanishing point of his coveted possession, thinking:
“That’s queer! They, certainly, were horses and no mirage—such as we saw on that other plain. That was strange, too; the things we saw in the sky-picture were just what we have since come to know so well; railroad, cars, station, water-tank and all! In the mirage everything was upside down, but the horses I saw just now were walking on four feet, their backs right side up, and quietly feeding. Well, if I keep on I’ll surely find them. And how I’ll astonish Jack when I ride back on a creature so much finer than his old worn-outs! I’ll choose the very handsomest of the band and, if I have half-luck, I’ll catch it—thus!”
He whirled his lasso around his head, flung it, and deftly cleft the cactus spike toward which he had aimed.
“Well done, Carlos! Excellent! Ha! I’m proud of my father’s son this day. I didn’t know I had learned so well. If Miguel were here he’d push out his lips and say: ‘Ah! it might be worse!’ Poor old Miguel! and Dennis so jealous of him.”
Tossing the cactus aside he rewound his lariat for fresh efforts. At that moment, a wild turkey flew over his head; so low that it was almost within reach and so slowly that he knew it had been wounded in some manner.
“It’s not manly sport to catch a hurt creature yet—a bird on the wing, even a broken one—I’ll try. I’m glad Carlota isn’t here for she’d call me cruel. She’s a darling little sister but, sometimes, she does make a big fuss about—nothing at all.”
Watching his chance, he flung the riata upward and caught the wounded thing. It fell at his feet, dying, and a curious chill crept through the lad’s veins.
“That’s because of silly old Marta. I’ve listened to her omens till I always remember them, and that’s ignorance, my father says. Yet, ‘Who snares the wounded shall himself be snared.’ Pooh! I’ve put it out of misery, anyway. Ha! There’s a road-runner! It’s not hurt and how, if besides my horse, I take back fresh game for our suppers? Then, indeed, will that boy think that ‘poor Carlos,’ who must trudge afoot while his neighbor rides, is of some account in camp.”
Again he flung his slender cord and this time he failed. But nothing discouraged, he wound it afresh, to be ready for more serious business and believing that the horses must be very near.
They were; much nearer than he thought; for as he turned toward the west, he saw close before him the beginning of that hidden, treeless, valley into which they had retreated.