I heard the “wheep” of the shaft, and fancied I heard it strike; but the steed kept on!
I had plucked up one of the long spears, as I ran across the camp. Before the Indian could adjust another arrow to the string, I had thrust him in the back.
I drew out the spear, and, keeping the white horse in view, ran on.
I was soon in the midst of the mustangs; many of them had already stampeded, and were galloping to and fro over the ground. The guards were dismayed, but as yet knew not the cause of the alarm. The steed with his rider passed safely through their line.
I followed on foot, and as fast as I could run. Fifty savages were after me; I could hear their shouts.
I could hear them cry “Wakono,” but I was soon far in advance of all. The horse-guards, as I passed them, were shouting “Wakono!”
As soon as I had cleared the horse-drove, I again perceived the steed; but he was now some distance off. To my joy he was going in the right direction—straight for the yuccas upon the hill. My men would see and intercept him?
I ran along the stream with all speed. I reached the broken bank, and, without stopping, rushed into the gully for my horse.
What was my astonishment to find that he was gone! my noble steed gone, and in his place the spotted mustang of the Indian!
I looked up and down the channel; I looked along its banks—Moro was not in sight!