“Yes, that is what they intend doing—no doubt of it. Oh, heavens! only to think we are so near, and yet cannot give Miranda a word of warning!”
“Can’t be helped. We must put our trust in Him as hes an eye on all o’ us—same over these desert purairas an’ mountains as whar people are livin’ in large cities. Sartin we must trust to Him an’ let things slide a bit, jest as He may direct ’em. To go out of our kiver now ’ud be the same as steppin’ inter the heart o’ a forest fire. Them sogers air mounted on swift horses, an’ ’ud ketch up wi these slow critturs o’ mules in the shakin’ o’ goat’s tail. Thurfor, let’s lie by till night. Tain’t fur off now. Then, ef we see any chance to steal down inter the valley, we’ll take edvantage o’ it.”
Hamersley can make no objection to the plan proposed. He sees no alternative but accede to it. So they remain watching the halted troop, regarding every movement with keen scrutiny.
For several hours are they thus occupied, until the sun begins to throw elongated shadows over the plain. Within half an hour of its setting the Mexicans again mount their horses and move onwards.
“Jest as I supposed they’d do,” said Walt. “Thar’s still all o’ ten miles atween them and the place. They’ve mezyured the time it’ll take ’em to git thur—an hour or so arter sundown. Thar ain’t the shadder o’ a chance for us to steal ahead o’ ’em. We must stay in this kiver till they’re clar out o’ sight.”
And they do stay in it until the receding horsemen, who present the appearance of giants under the magnifying twilight mist, gradually grow less, and at length fade from view under the thickening darkness.
Not another moment do Hamersley and the hunter remain within the grove, but springing to their saddles, push on after the troop.
Night soon descending, with scarce ten minutes of twilight, covers the plain with a complete obscurity, as if a shroud of crape had been suddenly thrown over it.
There is no moon, not even stars, in the sky; and the twin buttes, that form the portals of the pass, are no longer discerned.
But the ex-Ranger needs neither moon, nor stars, nor mountain peaks to guide him for such a short distance. Taking his bearings before starting from the black-jack copse, he rides on in a course straight as the direction of a bullet from his own rifle, until the two mounds loom up, their silhouettes seen against the leaden sky.