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- Стр. 457/662
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To
those
who
hear
it
at
the
jacalé
it
needs
no
translation
.
They
know
that
she
,
who
has
given
utterance
to
it
,
is
pursued
by
Indians
--
as
certain
as
if
the
fact
had
been
announced
in
their
own
Saxon
vernacular
.
They
have
scarce
time
to
translate
it
into
this
--
even
in
thought
--
when
the
same
voice
a
second
time
salutes
their
ears
:
--
"
Tejanos
!
Cavalleros
!
save
me
!
save
me
!
Los
Indios
!
I
am
chased
by
a
troop
.
They
are
behind
me
--
close
--
close
--
"
Her
speech
,
though
continued
,
is
no
longer
heard
distinctly
.
It
is
no
longer
required
to
explain
what
is
passing
upon
the
plain
above
.
She
has
cleared
the
first
clump
of
tree
tops
by
scarce
twenty
yards
,
when
the
leading
savage
shoots
out
from
the
same
cover
,
and
is
seen
,
going
in
full
gallop
,
against
the
clear
sky
.
Like
a
sling
he
spins
the
lazo
loop
around
his
head
.
So
eager
is
he
to
throw
it
with
sure
aim
,
that
he
does
not
appear
to
take
heed
of
what
the
fugitive
has
said
--
spoken
as
she
went
at
full
speed
:
for
she
made
no
stop
,
while
calling
out
to
the
"
Tejanos
.
"
He
may
fancy
it
has
been
addressed
to
himself
--
a
final
appeal
for
mercy
,
uttered
in
a
language
he
does
not
understand
:
for
Isidora
had
spoken
in
English
.
He
is
only
undeceived
,
as
the
sharp
crack
of
a
rifle
comes
echoing
out
of
the
glen
,
--
or
perhaps
a
little
sooner
,
as
a
stinging
sensation
in
his
wrist
causes
him
to
let
go
his
lazo
,
and
look
wonderingly
for
the
why
!
He
perceives
a
puff
of
sulphureous
smoke
rising
from
below
.
A
single
glance
is
sufficient
to
cause
a
change
in
his
tactics
.
In
that
glance
he
beholds
a
hundred
men
,
with
the
gleam
of
a
hundred
gun
barrels
!
His
three
followers
see
them
at
the
same
time
;
and
as
if
moved
by
the
same
impulse
,
all
four
turn
in
their
tracks
,
and
gallop
away
from
the
cliff
--
quite
as
quickly
as
they
have
been
approaching
it
.
"
'
Tur
a
pity
too
,
"
says
Zeb
Stump
,
proceeding
to
reload
his
rifle
.
"
If
'
t
hed
n't
a
been
for
the
savin
'
o
'
her
,
I
'd
a
let
'em
come
on
down
the
gully
.
Ef
we
ked
a
captered
them
,
we
mout
a
got
somethin'
out
o
'
'em
consarnin
'
this
queer
case
o
'
ourn
.
Thur
aint
the
smell
o
'
a
chance
now
.
