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They
see
Zeb
Stump
coming
on
;
but
in
a
fashion
to
frustrate
any
scheme
for
his
assassination
.
It
is
this
that
hinders
him
from
being
heard
.
"
I
'll
be
in
luck
,
if
he
should
lose
the
trail
!
"
reflects
Calhoun
,
once
more
turning
away
.
"
In
any
case
,
I
must
keep
on
till
it
's
lost
to
me
:
else
some
of
those
fools
may
be
more
fortunate
.
"
What
a
fool
I
've
been
in
wasting
so
much
time
.
If
I
do
n't
look
sharp
,
the
old
hound
will
be
up
with
me
;
and
then
it
would
be
no
use
if
I
did
get
the
chance
of
a
shot
.
Hell
!
that
would
be
worse
than
all
!
"
Freshly
spurring
the
grey
mustang
,
he
rides
forward
--
fast
as
the
circuitous
track
will
allow
him
.
Two
hundred
paces
further
on
,
and
he
again
comes
to
a
halt
--
surprise
and
pleasure
simultaneously
lighting
up
his
countenance
.
The
Headless
Horseman
is
in
sight
,
at
less
than
twenty
paces
'
distance
!
He
is
not
advancing
either
;
but
standing
among
some
low
bushes
that
rise
only
to
the
flaps
of
the
saddle
.
His
horse
's
head
is
down
.
The
animal
appears
to
be
browsing
upon
the
bean-pods
of
the
mezquites
.
At
first
sight
,
so
thinks
Calhoun
.
His
rifle
is
carried
quickly
to
his
shoulder
,
and
as
quickly
brought
down
again
