Chapter Sixty Nine.
Shadows behind.
When once more upon the trail of the man he intends killing, Clancy keeps on after his hound, with eager eyes watching every movement of the animal. That Brasfort is dead upon the scent can be told by his excited action, and earnest whimpering.
All at once he is checked up, his master drawing him back with sudden abruptness.
The dog appears surprised at first, so does Jupiter. The latter, looking round, discovers the cause: something which moves upon the plain, already observed by Clancy. Not clearly seen, for it is still dark.
“What goes yonder?” he asks, eagerly scanning it, with hands over his eyes.
“It don’t go, Masser Charle, whatever it is. Dat thing ’pears comin’.”
“You’re right. It is moving in this direction. A dust-cloud; something made it. Ah! horses! Are there men on their backs? No. Bah! it’s but a drove of mustangs. I came near taking them for Comanches; not that we need care. Just now the red gentry chance to be tied by a treaty, and are not likely to harm us. We’ve more to fear from fellows with white skins. Yes, the wild horses are heading our way; scouring along as if all the Indians in Texas were after them. What does that signify? Something, I take it.”
Jupiter cannot say. He is, as he has confessed, inexperienced upon the prairies, ill understanding their “sign.” However well acquainted with the craft of the forest, up in everything pertaining to timber, upon the treeless plains of Texas, an old prairie man would sneeringly pronounce him a “greenhorn.”