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- Стр. 459/662
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They
stand
waiting
for
the
approach
of
Isidora
.
All
are
now
by
their
horses
;
and
some
have
sought
shelter
among
the
trees
.
There
are
those
who
have
an
apprehension
:
that
along
with
the
Mexican
,
or
close
after
her
,
may
still
come
a
troop
of
Comanches
.
A
few
are
otherwise
occupied
--
Zeb
Stump
among
the
number
.
He
takes
the
gag
from
between
the
teeth
of
the
respited
prisoner
,
and
unties
the
thongs
hitherto
holding
him
too
fast
.
There
is
one
who
watches
him
with
a
strange
interest
,
but
takes
no
part
in
the
proceeding
.
Her
part
has
been
already
played
--
perhaps
too
prominently
.
She
shuns
the
risk
of
appearing
farther
conspicuous
.
Where
is
the
niece
of
Don
Silvio
Mortimez
?
She
has
not
yet
come
upon
the
ground
!
The
stroke
of
her
horse
's
hoof
is
no
longer
heard
!
There
has
been
time
--
more
than
time
--
for
her
to
have
reached
the
jacalé
!
Her
non-appearance
creates
surprise
--
apprehension
--
alarm
.
There
are
men
there
who
admire
the
Mexican
maiden
--
it
is
not
strange
they
should
--
some
who
have
seen
her
before
,
and
some
who
never
saw
her
until
that
day
.
Can
it
be
,
that
she
has
been
overtaken
and
captured
?
The
interrogatory
passes
round
.
No
one
can
answer
it
;
though
all
are
interested
in
the
answer
.
The
Texans
begin
to
feel
something
like
shame
.
Their
gallantry
was
appealed
to
,
in
that
speech
sent
them
from
the
cliff
,
"
Tejanos
!
Cavalleros
!
"
Has
she
who
addressed
it
succumbed
to
the
pursuer
?
Is
that
beauteous
form
in
the
embrace
of
a
paint-bedaubed
savage
?
They
listen
with
ears
intent
,
--
many
with
pulses
that
beat
high
,
and
hearts
throbbing
with
a
keen
anxiety
.
