Dupré, with some slight botanic knowledge, knew that no orange-tree grew near, nor yet any cypress. But he remembered having observed both in the Mission-garden, into which the girls had been last seen going. Without being able to guess why they should have brought sprig or flower along, he was sure they had themselves been under the live-oak. Where were they now?
In answer, Hawkins had cried: “Gone this way! Here’s the tracks of the shod horses leading up-stream, this side. Let’s follow them!”
So they had done, after despatching Tucker with the report.
It is so far satisfactory, better than any one expected; and inspires Colonel Armstrong with a feeling akin to hope. Something seems to whisper him his lost children will be recovered.
Long ere the sun has set over the valley of the San Saba his heart is filled, and thrilled, with joy indescribable. For his daughters are by his side, their arms around his neck, tenderly, lovingly entwining it, as on that day when told they must forsake their stately Mississippian home for a hovel in Texas. All have reached the Mission; for the scouting party having overtaken that of Woodley, came in along with it.
No, not all, two are still missing—Clancy and Jupiter. About the latter Woodley has made no one the wiser; though he tells Clancy’s strange experience, which, while astounding his auditory, fills them with keen apprehension for the young man’s fate.
Keenest is that in the breast of Helen Armstrong. Herself saved, she is now all the more solicitous about the safety of her lover. Her looks bespeak more than anxiety—anguish.
But there is that being done to hinder her from despairing. The pursuers are rapidly getting ready to start out, and with zeal unabated. For, although circumstances have changed by the recovery of the captives, there is sufficient motive for pursuit—the lost treasure to be re-taken—the outlaws chastised—Clancy’s life to be saved, or his death avenged.
Woodley’s words have fired them afresh, and they are impatient to set forth.
Their impatience reaches its climax, when Colonel Armstrong, with head uncovered, his white hair blown up by the evening breeze, addresses them, saying:—