“Stay, sir, one moment! You seem to have taken a strange fancy to my horse?”
“Ah! monsieur, it was no fancy; but I will explain that at some other time. Perhaps the necessity no longer exists.”
“Take him, if you will. Another will serve my purpose.”
“No, monsieur. Do you think I could rob you of what you esteem so highly, and with such just reason, too? No, no! Keep the good Moro. I do not wonder at your attachment to the noble brute.”
“You say that you have a long journey to-night. Then take him for the time.”
“That offer I will freely accept, for indeed my own horse is somewhat jaded. I have been two days in the saddle. Well, adieu!”
Seguin pressed my hand and walked away. I heard the “chinck, chinck” of his spurs as he crossed the apartment, and the next moment the door closed behind him.
I was alone, and lay listening to every sound that reached me from without. In about half an hour after he had left me, I heard the hoof-strokes of a horse, and saw the shadow of a horseman passing outside the window. He had departed on his journey, doubtless on the performance of some red duty connected with his fearful avocation!
I lay for a while harassed in mind, thinking of this strange man. Then sweet voices interrupted my meditations; before me appeared lovely faces, and the Scalp-hunter was forgotten.