Under such an impression, they stand interrogating the level line—where sky and savannah mingle the soft blue of the sapphire with the vivid green of the emerald.
Chapter Ninety Five.
The Last Witness.
The watchful air is kept up for a period of full ten minutes, and along with it the solemn silence.
The latter is at intervals interrupted by a word or exclamation—when some one sees, or fancies, a spot upon the prairie. Then there is a buzz of excitement; and men stand on tiptoe to obtain a better view.
Thrice is the crowd stirred by warnings that have proved false. Its patience is becoming exhausted, when a fourth salutes the ear, spoken in a louder voice and more confident tone.
This time the tale is true. There are shadows upon the skyline—shadows fast assuming shape, substance, and motion.
A wild shout—the old Saxon “huzza,” swells up among the branches of the live oak, as the figures of three horsemen emerging from the film of the sun-parched prairie are seen coming in the direction of the tree!