Meanwhile, where was the missing maiden, Clara Calhoun? Let us glance back and learn.
The information gleaned by Major Calhoun from the emigrants was correct, so far as it went. Clara had been riding, as usual, and when she had learned the spot chosen for the encampment, which she could already locate by the neighboring grove of trees, she resolved to enjoy a little gallop ere night fell, and by this means she would also avoid much of the disagreeable noise and confusion attendant upon halting.
So she bore abruptly to the right, and with loosened rein dashed merrily away, the proud mustang tossing his head gladly, at this unusual relaxation. But Clara’s little ride was destined to be carried out upon a scale of far greater importance than she had anticipated, and ere it was ended, she was fated to undergo a season of peculiar trial.
From before her horse’s feet there sprung up a rabbit—one of that overgrown breed popularly known as “jack-rabbits,” which, if not often palmed off on greenhorns as full grown mules, as Westerners frequently assert, are sufficiently large to astonish those used only to the more diminutive species common to “the States”—and dashed away over the short grass, clearing fully half a score yards at each jump.
Clara’s eyes sparkled, and bending forward she spoke to her horse in a low tone, gently touching his flanks with her switch. The game creature bounded forward with a wild snort, while the maiden laughed long and loudly at this unique race.
The jack-rabbit, like his more diminutive brother of the States, invariably resorts to one ruse, in order to escape an enemy. It will flee for a considerable distance in a direct line, but then will “double,” and return by a detour to near the starting-point.
And this one was not an exception to the general rule. For fully a mile it leaped ahead, with astonishing speed, leaving Clara far behind, and then doubled.
But Clara did not detect this last move, and urged her horse on at full speed. Then, however, having lost sight of the animal, she drew rein and turned as if to retrace her steps.
She glanced around, but the point toward which she believed was the camping-ground was bare and like that upon either hand. Not a tree was to be seen. The plain was nearly level, but she was now in a slight depression, that was from right to left, like the trough between two huge waves.
“Come,” she said, us she twitched the reins and turned the mustang’s head toward the crest, “we must hurry, or we’ll be too late for supper. It’s almost sundown.”