But as there was no dew on that particular night—nor any outlying settlement in the direction he was heading to—the horseman was more like to have been a real traveller—en route for some distant point upon the prairies.
For all this he did not appear to be in haste; or uneasy as to the hour at which he might reach his destination.
On the contrary, he seemed absorbed in some thought, that linked itself with the past; sufficiently engrossing to render him unobservant of outward objects, and negligent in the management of his horse.
The latter, with the rein lying loosely upon his neck, was left to take his own way; though instead of stopping, or straying, he kept steadily on, as if over ground oft trodden before.
Thus leaving the animal to its own guidance, and pressing it neither with whip nor spur, the traveller rode tranquilly over the prairie, till lost to view—not by the intervention of any object, but solely through the dimness of the light, where the moon became misty in the far distance.
Almost on the instant of his disappearance—and as if the latter had been taken for a cue—a second horseman spurred out from the suburbs of the village; and proceeded along the same path.
From the fact of his being habited in a fashion to defend him against the chill air of the night, he too might have been taken for a traveller.
A cloak clasped across his breast hung over his shoulders, its ample skirts draping backward to the hips of his horse.
Unlike the horseman who had preceded him, he showed signs of haste—plying both whip and spur as he pressed on.
He appeared intent on overtaking some one. It might be the individual whose form had just faded out of sight?