His syncope was soon over, and consciousness once more assumed away.
Supporting himself on his elbow, he looked inquiringly around.
It was a strange, sanguinary spectacle that met his eyes. But for his swoon, he would have seen a still stranger one. During its continuance a horseman had ridden into the glade, and gone out again. He was the same whose hoofstroke had been heard, and who had lent a deaf ear to the cries for help. He had arrived too late, and then without any idea of offering assistance. His design appeared to be the watering of his horse.
The animal plunged straight into the streamlet, drank to its satisfaction, climbed out on the opposite bank, trotted across the open ground, and disappeared in the thicket beyond.
The rider had taken no notice of the prostrate form; the horse only by snorting, as he saw it, and springing from side to side, as he trod amidst the carcases of the coyotés.
The horse was a magnificent animal, not large, but perfect in all his parts. The man was the very reverse—having no head!
There was a head, but not in its proper place. It rested against the holster, seemingly held in the rider’s hand!
A fearful apparition.
The dog barked, as it passed through the glade, and followed it to the edge of the underwood. He had been with it for a long time, straying where it strayed, and going where it went.
He now desisted from this fruitless fellowship; and, returning to the sleeper, lay down by his side.