Shouldering the horse gear with other impedimenta, he looks round to get his bearings, and, soon as satisfied about these, starts off over the plain in search of Crusader.
He is not the only one at that moment making to find the horse. From the Indian camp a picked party has issued forth, urged by the chief. For the new leader of the Coyoteros longs to possess that now famous steed as much as did the deceased one.
“Ten of my best mustangs, and as many of my mules, will I give for the black horse of the paleface. He who captures him may claim that reward.”
More than once has El Zopilote thus declared himself, exciting the ardour and cupidity of his followers. Withal they have chased Crusader in vain, over and over again, till in their superstitious fancy they begin to think him a phantom.
But as yet they have never tried to take him by night; and now, having ascertained the place where he usually passes the nocturnal hours, they start out in quest of him.
Not rashly nor incautiously; instead, they proceed deliberately, and with a preconceived plan, as though stalking game. Their intention is first to enfilade the animal at long distance off, then contract the circle, so as to have him sure.
In execution of their scheme, on reaching the western side of the lake, they divide into two parties. One moves along the mountain’s foot, dropping a file here and there; the other strikes out over the llano, in a circular line, as it proceeds doing the same.
It is too dark for them to see horse or other object at any great distance, so they take care that their circle be wide enough to embrace the stretch of pasture where the coveted animal is known to browse.
Noiselessly they execute the movement, going at a slow walk, lest the hoof-strokes of their horses may alarm the one they would enclose; and when the heads of the separated parties again come together, all know it by a signal agreed upon—the cry of the coyote transmitted along their line admonishes them that the cordon is complete.