The hoof-strokes became less distinct. Despair once more returned to the antagonist of the coyotés.
At the same time his skulking assailants felt a renewal of their courage, and hastened to renew the conflict.
Once more it commenced, and was soon raging fiercely as before—the wretched man believing himself doomed, and only continuing the strife through sheer desperation.
Once more was it interrupted, this time by an intruder whose presence inspired him with fresh courage and hope.
If the horseman had proved indifferent to his calls for help, not so the hound. A grand creature of the staghound species—of its rarest and finest breed—was seen approaching the spot, uttering a deep sonorous bay, as with impetuous bound it broke through the bushes.
“A friend! thank Heaven, a friend!”
The baying ceased, as the hound cleared the selvage of the chapparal, and rushed open-mouthed among the cowed coyotés—already retreating at his approach!
One was instantly seized between the huge jaws; jerked upward from the earth; shaken as if it had been only a rat; and let go again, to writhe over the ground with a shattered spine!
Another was served in a similar manner; but ere a third could be attacked, the terrified survivors dropped their tails to the sward, and went yelping away; one and all retreating whence they had come—into the silent solitudes of the chapparal.
The rescued man saw no more. His strength was completely spent. He had just enough left to stretch forth his arms, and with a smile close them around the neck of his deliverer. Then, murmuring some soft words, he fainted gradually away.