There was but slight chance of my being able to accomplish this without a gallop.
The riderless horse was roused, and could not be approached unless by a ruse, or after being run down.
I could think of no trick beyond that of stealing upon the mustang through some trees near which he had stopped, and I rode towards them.
It was to no purpose. The animal having the advantage in position, could see me as I advanced up the acclivity. Before I had got half way to the trees, it turned tail towards me; and, uttering a shrill scream, disappeared over the crest of the ridge.
Giving Moro a touch of the spur, I hastened on to the spot lately occupied by the escapado.
On reaching the summit I saw the mustang once more, but at a rather discouraging distance. It had made good use of the short time it had been out of sight—being now nearly half a mile off, and still going down the slope, which declined in the direction of the Rio del Plan.
I hesitated to follow. The pursuit might carry me far into the heart of the country, and away from the main road. My time was precious. I had orders to report at head-quarters at an early hour of the evening. Cavalry were at that time scarce in the American army; and even my “irregulars” might be required for some duty. I had not much discretionary control as to my movements; and, with these reflections crossing my mind, I determined to return to my troop.
Rather should I say, I was about determining to do so, when a circumstance occurred that decided me to go on.
As I sat in my saddle, watching the fugitive mustang—expecting it soon to disappear into the woods at the bottom of the hill, all of a sudden the animal came to a halt, and, turning around and tossing its head high in the air, once more gave utterance to a shrill “whigher.”
There was something in the neighing of the creature, as well as the movement that accompanied it, that seemed to say, “Come after me if you dare!”