However, the tactics of their enemies had evidently changed, they no longer endeavored to force the entrance of the ramada; but their new manœuvres were already causing a still more imminent danger.
The wolves, abandoning their design of penetrating the inclosure by this entrance, which was defended by weapon and fire, went to the back of the ramada and sought to assail it in the rear. Their claws were soon heard rattling against the half-decayed wood. Already their powerful paws and bloody mouths had forced their way between the shattered stakes. The horses, bewildered and panic-stricken, broke their halters and dashed into the inclosure. Glenarvan seized Robert in his arms, to defend him to the last extremity; and he would have attempted a rash flight, and rushed out of the ramada, had not his eyes fallen upon the Indian.
Thalcave, turning like a deer, had suddenly approached his horse, which was neighing with impatience, and was beginning to saddle him carefully, forgetting neither strap nor buckle. He seemed no longer to care for the howls, that were now redoubled. Glenarvan gazed at him with a dark foreboding.
"He is leaving us!" cried he, seeing Thalcave gather up his reins as though he were about to mount.
"He? never!" said Robert.
In truth the Indian was about to make a venture, not to leave his friends, but to save them by sacrificing himself. Thaouka was ready. He champed his bit; he pranced; his eyes, full of a fiery spirit, shot forth lightning flashes; he understood his master.
Just as the Indian was seizing the mane of his horse, Glenarvan caught him by the arm with a convulsive grasp.
"You are going?" said he, pointing to the plain, which was now deserted.
"Yes," replied the Indian, who comprehended the gesture of his companion; and, with vehement gesticulations which were however perfectly intelligible, he added a few words in Spanish, which signified: "Thaouka—good horse—swift—will draw the wolves after him."