Всадник без головы

Chapter 66

           Foryearshavetheybeenenpaz—bothwithTexansandMexicans;andtheonlydangertobedreadedfromthemwasalittlerudenesswhenundertheinfluenceofdrink—justasalady,incivilisedlife,maydislikeuponalonelyroad,tomeetacrowdof"navigators,"whohavebeenspendingtheirdayatthebeer-house.

           Isidorahaspassedthroughaperilofthiskind,andremembersit—withlesspainfromthethoughtoftheperilitself,thantheruinithasledto.

           Butherdangerisdifferentnow.Thepeaceispast.Thereiswaruponthewind.Herpursuersarenolongerintoxicatedwiththefire-wateroftheirfoes.Theyarethirstingforblood;andshefliestoescapenotonlydishonour,butitmaybedeath!

           Onoverthatopenplain,withallthespeedshecantakeoutofherhorse,—allthatwhip,andspur,andvoicecanaccomplish!

           Shealonespeaks.Herpursuersarevoiceless—silentasspectres!

           Onlyoncedoessheglancebehind.Therearestillbutfourofthem;butfouristoomanyagainstone—andthatoneawoman!

           Thereisnohope,unlessshecangetwithinhailoftheTexans.

           Shepressesonforthealhuehueté.

           

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