Still closely keeping among the acacias, Zeb Stump looked after, till the same grove, that had concealed the former, interposed its verdant veil between him and the ex-captain of cavalry.
The backwoodsman’s brain having become the recipient of new thoughts, required a fresh exercise of its ingenuity.
If there was reason before for taking the trail of the Headless Horseman, it was redoubled now.
With but short time spent in consideration, so Zeb concluded; and commenced making preparations for a stalk after Cassius Calhoun.
These consisted in taking hold of the bridle, and giving the old mare a kick; that caused her to start instantaneously to her feet.
Zeb stood by her side, intending to climb into the saddle and ride out into the open plain—as soon as Calhoun should be out of sight.
He had no thoughts of keeping the latter in view. He needed no such guidance. The two fresh trails would be sufficient for him; and he felt as sure of finding the direction in which both would lead, as if he had ridden alongside the horseman without a head, or him without a heart.
With this confidence he cleared out from among the acacias, and took the path just trodden by Calhoun.
For once in his life, Zeb Stump had made a mistake. On rounding the mezquite grove, behind which both had made disappearance, he discovered he had done so.