The answers are but conjectural; doubtfully so, as Calhoun goes galloping off; a little less doubtful as Zeb Stump is descried starting after him; and still less, when a hundred horsemen—soldiers and civilians—spring forward in the pursuit.
The doubt diminishes as the last of the pursuers is seen leaving the ground. All seem to believe that the last at starting will be first in the chase: for they perceive that it is Maurice the mustanger mounted on a horse whose fleetness is now far famed.
The exclamations late ringing through the court have proclaimed not only a fresh postponement of his trial, but its indefinite adjournment. By the consent of the assemblage, vociferously expressed, or tacitly admitted, he feels that he is free.
The first use he makes of his liberty is to rush towards the horse late ridden by the headless rider—as all know—his own.
At his approach the animal recognises its master; proclaims it by trotting towards him, and giving utterance to a glad “whigher!”
Despite the long severance, there is scarce time to exchange congratulations. A single word passes the lips of the mustanger, in response to the neigh of recognition; and in the next instant he is on the back of the blood-bay, with the bridle in his grasp.
He looks round for a lazo; asks for it appealingly, in speech directed to the bystanders.
After a little delay one is thrown to him, and he is off.
The spectators stand gazing after. There is no longer a doubt as to the result. The wish, almost universal, has become a universal belief. God has decreed that the assassin shall not escape; but that he will be overtaken, captured, and brought back before that same tribunal, where he so late stood a too willing witness!
And the man, so near suffering death through his perjured testimony, is the instrument chosen to carry out the Divine decree!