The Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains

by George Manville Fenn

As to his direction, Bart was ignorant. All he knew was that he ought to have ridden some distance farther before turning off, but that awful flash had made the cob turn and bound away at once; and as far as the rider could make out, they were going straight for the lake with the dismounted Indians running and yelling madly behind.

At least that was what he fancied, for, as he listened, all he could hear was the deafening roar of the thunder, and

the sharp crackling sound of the lightning as it descended in rugged streaks, or ran along the ground, one flash showing him the lake right ahead, and enabling him to turn a little off to the left, so as to pass its end.

He knew now that the pealing thunder would effectually prevent the Indians from hearing him, but the lightning was a terrible danger when it lit up the plains; and as he peered ahead, he fully expected to see a body of horsemen riding to cut him off. But no; he went on through the storm at a good swinging gallop, having his steed well now in hand, a few pats on its arching neck and some encouraging words chasing away its dread of the lightning, which grew more vivid and the thunder more awful as he rode on.

After a time he heard a low rushing, murmuring sound in the intervals when the thunder was not bellowing, so that it seemed to rock the very foundations of the earth. It was a strange low murmur, that sounded like the galloping of horsemen at a great distance; and hearing this, Bart went off at a stretching gallop, crashing through bushes and tall fleshy plants, some of which pierced the stout leggings that he wore, giving him painful thrusts from their thorns, till, all at once, the rushing sound as of horsemen ceased, and he realised the fact that it was the noise of a storm of rain sweeping across the plain, borne upon the wind to fall almost in sheets of water, though he passed quite upon its outskirts, and felt only a few heavy pattering drops.

He had passed the end of the lake in safety, and was beginning to be hopeful that he would escape the Indians altogether, but still he could not understand how it was that the little dismounted body of men had not spread the alarm, for he knew that they must have seen him, the ball of light that struck the rock having lit up everything, and he knew that he seemed to be standing out in the middle of a regular glare of light; but after the deafening crash that followed he had heard no more—no distant shouts—no war-whoop. They would be sure to communicate with their nearest scouts, and their bodies of mounted men would have begun to scour the plain in spite of the storm; for he could not think that the Apachés, who were constantly exposed to the warfare of the elements, would be too much alarmed to attempt the pursuit.

“They would not be more cowardly than I am,” he said with a half laugh, as he galloped on, with Black Boy going easily, and with a long swinging stride that carried him well over the plain, but whether into safety or danger he could not tell.

All he knew was that chance must to a great extent direct his steps, and so he galloped on with the rain left behind and a soft sweet breeze playing upon his face, the oppression of the storm seeming to pass away, while it was plain enough that the thunder and lightning were momentarily growing more distant, as if he were riding right out of it towards where the air and sky were clearer. Before long, he felt sure, the stars would be out, and he could see his way, instead of galloping on in this reckless chance manner, leaving everything to his horse.

“I can’t quite understand it,” said Bart; “there must have been some mistake. Of course, I see now. I was riding straight along under the mountain-side when Black Boy swerved almost right round and went off in another direction: that and the darkness threw them off the track, but they will be sure to strike my trail in the morning. Black Boy’s hoof-prints will be plain enough in the soft earth where the rain has not washed them away, and they’ll come on after me like a pack of hungry wolves. How I wish I knew whether I was going right! It would be so valuable now to get right away before morning.”