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- Стр. 268/662
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Though
few
in
number
--
as
there
are
only
four
of
them
--
they
are
formidable
to
look
upon
.
The
vermilion
glaring
redly
over
their
naked
skins
,
the
striped
and
spotted
tatooing
upon
their
cheeks
,
the
scarlet
feathers
standing
stiffly
upright
above
their
heads
,
and
the
gleaming
of
weapons
held
in
their
hands
,
all
bespeak
strength
of
a
savage
and
dangerous
kind
.
Whence
come
they
?
They
are
in
the
war
costume
of
the
Comanche
.
Their
paint
proclaims
it
.
There
is
the
skin
fillet
around
the
temples
,
with
the
eagle
plumes
stuck
behind
it
.
The
bare
breasts
and
arms
;
the
buckskin
breech-clouts
--
everything
in
the
shape
of
sign
by
which
these
Ishmaelites
of
Texas
may
be
recognised
,
when
out
upon
the
maraud
.
They
must
be
Comanches
:
and
,
therefore
,
have
come
from
the
west
.
Whither
go
they
?
This
is
a
question
more
easily
answered
.
They
are
closing
in
upon
the
hut
,
where
lies
the
unconscious
inebriate
.
The
jacalé
of
Maurice
Gerald
is
evidently
the
butt
of
their
expedition
.
That
their
intentions
are
hostile
,
is
to
be
inferred
from
the
fact
of
their
wearing
the
war
costume
.
It
is
also
apparent
from
their
manner
of
making
approach
.
Still
further
,
by
their
dismounting
at
some
distance
from
the
hut
,
securing
their
horses
in
the
underwood
,
and
continuing
their
advance
on
foot
.
Their
stealthy
tread
--
taking
care
to
plant
the
foot
lightly
upon
the
fallen
leaves
--
the
precaution
to
keep
inside
the
shadow
--
the
frequent
pauses
,
spent
in
looking
ahead
and
listening
--
the
silent
gestures
with
which
these
movements
are
directed
by
him
who
appears
to
be
the
leader
--
all
proclaim
design
,
to
reach
the
jacalé
unperceived
by
whoever
may
chance
to
be
inside
it
.
In
this
they
are
successful
--
so
far
as
may
be
judged
by
appearances
.
They
stand
by
the
stockade
walls
,
without
any
sign
being
given
to
show
that
they
have
been
seen
.
The
silence
inside
is
complete
,
as
that
they
are
themselves
observing
.
There
is
nothing
heard
--
not
so
much
as
the
screech
of
a
hearth-cricket
.
