I put the Indian horse to his full speed. The point of my knife served for whip and spur. I was no longer encumbered with the spear; it had been left in the body of Hissoo-royo.
I kept my eyes fixed upon the steed, but he was fast closing in to the timber that skirted the base of the hill; he was nearing the bend where I had taken to the water, and would soon be hidden from my view behind the bushes.
All at once I saw him swerve, and strike away to the left, across the open plain. To my surprise I saw this, for I had conjectured that his rider was aiming to reach the cover offered by the thicket.
Without waiting to think of an explanation, I headed the mustang into the diagonal line, and galloped forward.
I was in hopes of getting nearer by the advantage thus given me; but I was ill satisfied with the creeping pace of the Indian horse so unlike the long, free stretch of my matchless Moro. Where was he? Why was I not bestriding him?
The white steed soon shot clear of the hill, and was now running upon the plain that stretched beyond it.
I saw that I was not gaining upon him; on the contrary, he was every moment widening the distance between us. Where was Moro? Why had he been taken away?
At that instant I perceived a dark horseman making along the foot of the ridge, as if to intercept me; he was dashing furiously through the thicket that skirted the base of the declivity. I could hear the bushes rattling against the flanks of his horse; he was evidently making all the haste in his power, at the same time aiming to keep concealed from the view of those upon the plain.
I recognised my horse, and upon his back the thin lank form of the earless trapper!
We met the moment after, at the point where the thicket ended.