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Then
,
as
if
acting
under
some
sudden
impulse
,
he
hurried
along
the
verandah
to
his
own
room
;
entered
it
;
reappeared
in
a
rough
overcoat
;
crossed
back
to
the
stable
;
went
in
;
came
out
again
with
his
own
horse
saddled
and
bridled
;
led
the
animal
along
the
pavement
,
as
gently
as
if
he
was
stealing
him
;
and
once
outside
upon
the
turf
,
sprang
upon
his
back
,
and
rode
rapidly
away
.
For
a
mile
or
more
he
followed
the
same
road
,
that
had
been
taken
by
Henry
Poindexter
.
It
could
not
have
been
with
any
idea
of
overtaking
the
latter
:
since
,
long
before
,
the
hoofstrokes
of
Henry
's
horse
had
ceased
to
be
heard
;
and
proceeding
at
a
slower
pace
,
Calhoun
did
not
ride
as
if
he
cared
about
catching
up
with
his
cousin
.
He
had
taken
the
up-river
road
.
When
about
midway
between
Casa
del
Corvo
and
the
Fort
,
he
reined
up
;
and
,
after
scrutinising
the
chapparal
around
him
,
struck
off
by
a
bridle-path
leading
back
toward
the
bank
of
the
river
.
As
he
turned
into
it
he
might
have
been
heard
muttering
to
himself
--
"
A
chance
still
left
;
a
good
one
,
though
not
so
cheap
as
the
other
.
It
will
cost
me
a
thousand
dollars
.
What
of
that
,
so
long
as
I
get
rid
of
this
Irish
curse
,
who
has
poisoned
every
hour
of
my
existence
!
If
true
to
his
promise
,
he
takes
the
route
to
his
home
by
an
early
hour
in
the
morning
.
What
time
,
I
wonder
.
These
men
of
the
prairies
call
it
late
rising
,
if
they
be
abed
till
daybreak
!
Never
mind
.
There
's
yet
time
for
the
Coyote
to
get
before
him
on
the
road
!
I
know
that
.
It
must
be
the
same
as
we
followed
to
the
wild
horse
prairies
.
He
spoke
of
his
hut
upon
the
Alamo
.
That
's
the
name
of
the
creek
where
we
had
our
pic-nic
.
The
hovel
can
not
be
far
from
there
!
The
Mexican
must
know
the
place
,
or
the
trail
leading
to
it
;
which
last
will
be
sufficient
for
his
purpose
and
mine
.
A
fig
for
the
shanty
itself
!
The
owner
may
never
reach
it
.
There
may
be
Indians
upon
the
road
!
There
must
be
,
before
daybreak
in
the
morning
!
"
As
Calhoun
concluded
this
string
of
strange
reflections
,
he
had
arrived
at
the
door
of
another
"
shanty
"
--
that
of
the
Mexican
mustanger
.
The
jacalé
was
the
goal
of
his
journey
.
Having
slipped
out
of
his
saddle
,
and
knotted
his
bridle
to
a
branch
,
he
set
foot
upon
the
threshold
.
The
door
was
standing
wide
open
.
From
the
inside
proceeded
a
sound
,
easily
identified
as
the
snore
of
a
slumberer
.
It
was
not
as
of
one
who
sleeps
either
tranquilly
,
or
continuously
.
At
short
intervals
it
was
interrupted
--
now
by
silent
pauses
--
anon
by
hog-like
gruntings
,
interspersed
with
profane
words
,
not
perfectly
pronounced
,
but
slurred
from
a
thick
tongue
,
over
which
,
but
a
short
while
before
,
must
have
passed
a
stupendous
quantity
of
alcohol
.
"
Carrambo
!
carrai
!
carajo
--
chingara
!
mil
diablos
!
"
mingled
with
more
--
perhaps
less
--
reverential
exclamations
of
"
Sangre
de
Cristo
!
Jesus
!
Santissima
Virgen
!
Santa
Maria
!
Dios
!
Madre
de
Dios
!
"
and
the
like
,
were
uttered
inside
the
jacalé
,
as
if
the
speaker
was
engaged
in
an
apostrophic
conversation
with
all
the
principal
characters
of
the
Popish
Pantheon
.
