Всадник без головы

Chapter 81

           Andnowonder:forthespectacleuponwhichitrestedwasonetoterrifythestoutestheart.

           Thesunhadstolenupabovethehorizonoftheprairie,andwasbehindtherider’sback,inthedirectlineofthecoursehehadbeenpursuing.Beforehim,alongtheheaven’sedge,extendedabeltofbluishmist—theexhalationarisingoutofthechapparal—nownotfardistant.Thetreesthemselveswereunseen—concealedunderthefilmfloatingoverthem,thatlikeaveilofpurplegauze,rosetoaconsiderableheightabovetheirtops—graduallymergingintothedeeperazureofthesky.

           Onthisveil,ormovingbehindit—asinthetransparenciesofastagescene—appearedaformstrangeenoughtohaveleftthespectatorincredulous,hadhenotbehelditbefore.ItwasthatoftheHeadlessHorseman.

           Butnotasseenbefore—eitherbyCalhounhimself,oranyoftheothers.No.Itwasnowaltogetherdifferent.Inshapethesame;butinsizeitwasincreasedtotenfolditsoriginaldimensions!

           Nolongeraman,butaColossus—agiant.Nolongerahorse,butananimalofequineshape,withthetoweringheightandhugemassivebulkofamastodon!

           NorwasthisallofthenewtobenotedabouttheHeadlessHorseman.Astillgreaterchangewaspresentedinhisappearance;oneyetmoreinexplicable,ifthatcouldpossiblybe.

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