How knew Garey that they were in pursuit of the horse?
The “scratches” told him they were going at their fastest, and they would not have sprung so far had they not been pursuing some prey. There were footmarks of no other animal except theirs, and the hoof-prints of that steed; and that they were after him was evident to the trapper, because the tracks of the wolves covered those of the horse.
Garey had no more doubt of the correctness of his reasoning, than a geometrician of the truth of a theorem in Euclid.
I groaned in spirit as I was forced to adopt his conclusion. But it was all probable—too probable. Had the steed been alone—Unembarrassed—free—it was not likely the wolves would have chased him thus. The wild-horse in his prime is rarely the object of their attack; though the old and infirm—the gravid mare, and the feeble colt—often fall before these hungry hunters of the plains. Both common wolf and coyote possess all the astuteness of the fox, and know, as if by instinct, the animal that is wounded to death. They will follow the stricken deer that has escaped from the hunter; but if it prove to be but slightly harmed, instinctively they abandon the chase.
Their instinct had told them that the steed was not ridden by a free hand; they had seen that there was something amiss; and in the hope of running down both horse and rider, they had followed with hungry howl.
Another fact lent probability to this painful conjecture; we knew that by the mesa were many wolves.
The spring was the constant resort of ruminant animals, deer and antelopes; the half-wild cattle of the ganaderos drank there, and the tottering calf oft became the prey of the coyote and his more powerful congener, the gaunt Texan wolf. There was still another reason why the place must of late have been the favourite prowl of these hideous brutes: the débris of our skirmish had furnished them with many a midnight banquet. They had ravened upon the blood of men and the flesh of horses, and they hungered for more.
That they might succeed in running down the steed, cumbered as he was, was probable enough. Sooner or later, they would overtake him. It might be after a long, long gallop over hill and dale, through swamp and chapparal; but still it was probable those tough, tireless pursuers would overtake him. They would launch themselves upon his flanks; they would seize upon his wearied limbs—upon hers, the helpless victim on his back—both horse and rider would be dragged to the earth—both torn—parted in pieces—devoured!
I groaned under the horrid apprehension.
“Look thar!” said Garey, pointing to the ground, and holding his torch so as to illuminate the surface; “the hoss has made a slip thar. See! hyar’s the track o’ the big wolf—he hes sprung up jest hyar; I can tell by the scratch o’ his hind-claws.”