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They
listen
in
vain
.
There
is
no
sound
of
hoof
--
no
voice
of
woman
--
nothing
,
except
the
champing
of
bitts
heard
close
by
their
side
!
Can
it
be
that
she
is
taken
?
Now
that
the
darker
design
is
stifled
within
their
breasts
,
the
hostility
against
one
of
their
own
race
is
suddenly
changed
into
a
more
congenial
channel
.
Their
vengeance
,
rekindled
,
burns
fiercer
than
ever
--
since
it
is
directed
against
the
hereditary
foe
.
The
younger
and
more
ardent
--
among
whom
are
the
admirers
of
the
Mexican
maiden
--
can
bear
the
uncertainty
no
longer
.
They
spring
into
their
saddles
,
loudly
declaring
their
determination
to
seek
her
--
to
save
her
,
or
perish
in
the
attempt
.
Who
is
to
gainsay
them
?
Her
pursuers
--
her
captors
perhaps
--
may
be
the
very
men
they
have
been
in
search
of
--
the
murderers
of
Henry
Poindexter
!
No
one
opposes
their
intent
.
They
go
off
in
search
of
Isidora
--
in
pursuit
of
the
prairie
pirates
.
Those
who
remain
are
but
few
in
number
;
though
Zeb
Stump
is
among
them
.
The
old
hunter
is
silent
,
as
to
the
expediency
of
pursuing
the
Indians
.
He
keeps
his
thoughts
to
himself
:
his
only
seeming
care
is
to
look
after
the
invalid
prisoner
--
still
unconscious
--
still
guarded
by
the
Regulators
.
