The Headless Horseman Part 52

His features did not seem set in death: and as little was it like sleep.

It had more the look of death than sleep. The eyes were but half closed; and the pupils could be seen glancing through the lashes, gla.s.sy and dilated. Was the man dead?

Beyond doubt, the black birds believed that he was. But the black birds were judging only by appearances. Their wish was parent to the thought.

They were mistaken.

Whether it was the glint of the sun striking into his half-screened orbs, or nature becoming restored after a period of repose, the eyes of the prostrate man were seen to open to their full extent, while a movement was perceptible throughout his whole frame.

Soon after he raised himself a little; and, resting upon his elbow, stared confusedly around him.

The vultures soared upward into the air, and for the time maintained a higher flight.

"Am I dead, or living?" muttered he to himself. "Dreaming, or awake?

Which is it? Where am I?"

The sunlight was blinding him. He could see nothing, till he had shaded his eyes with his hand; then only indistinctly.

"Trees above--around me! Stones underneath! That I can tell by the aching of my bones. A chapparal forest! How came I into it?

"Now I have it," continued he, after a short spell of reflection. "My head was dashed against a tree. There it is--the very limb that lifted me out of the saddle. My left leg pains me. Ah! I remember; it came in contact with the trunk. By heavens, I believe it is broken!"

As he said this, he made an effort to raise himself into an erect att.i.tude. It proved a failure. His sinister limb would lend him no a.s.sistance: it was swollen at the knee-joint--either shattered or dislocated.

"Where is the horse? Gone off, of course. By this time, in the stables of Casa del Corvo. I need not care now. I could not mount him, if he were standing by my side.

"The other?" he added, after a pause. "Good heavens! what a spectacle it was! No wonder it scared the one I was riding!

"What am I to do? My leg may be broken. I can't stir from this spot, without some one to help me. Ten chances to one--a hundred--a thousand--against any one coming this way; at least not till I've become food for those filthy birds. Ugh! the hideous brutes; they stretch out their beaks, as if already sure of making a meal upon me!

"How long have I been lying here? The surf don't seem very high. It was just daybreak, as I climbed into the saddle. I suppose I've been unconscious about an hour. By my faith, I'm in a serious sc.r.a.pe? In all likelihood a broken limb--it feels broken--with no surgeon to set it; a stony couch in the heart of a Texan chapparal--the thicket around me, perhaps for miles--no chance to escape from it of myself--no hope of human creature coming to help me--wolves on the earth, and vultures in the air! Great G.o.d! why did I mount, without making sure of the rein?

I may have ridden my last ride!"

The countenance of the young man became clouded; and the cloud grew darker, and deeper, as he continued to reflect upon the perilous position in which a simple accident had placed him.

Once more he essayed to rise to his feet, and succeeded; only to find, that he had but one leg on which he could rely! It was no use, standing upon it; and he lay down again.

Two hours were pa.s.sed without any change in his situation; during which he had caused the chapparal to ring with a loud hallooing. He only desisted from this, under the conviction: that there was no one at all likely to hear him.

The shouting caused thirst; or at all events hastened the advent of this appet.i.te--surely coming on as the concomitant of the injuries he had received.

The sensation was soon experienced to such an extent that everything else--even the pain of his wounds--became of trifling consideration.

"It will kill me, if I stay here?" reflected the sufferer. "I must make an effort to reach water. If I remember aright there's a stream somewhere in this chapparal, and not such a great way off. I must get to it, if I have to crawl upon my hands and knees. Knees! and only one in a condition to support me! There's no help for it but try. The longer I stay here, the worse it will be. The sun grows hotter. It already burns into my brain. I may lose my senses, and then--the wolves--the vultures--"

The horrid apprehension caused silence and shuddering. After a time he continued:

"If I but knew the right way to go. I remember the stream well enough.

It runs towards the chalk prairie. It should be south-east, from here.

I shall try that way. By good luck the sun guides me. If I find water all may yet be well. G.o.d give me strength to reach it!"

With this prayer upon his lips, he commenced making his way through the thicket--creeping over the stony ground, and dragging after him his disabled leg, like some huge Saurian whose vertebrae have been disjointed by a blow!

Lizard-like, he continued his crawl.

The effort was painful in the extreme; but the apprehension from which he suffered was still more painful, and urged him to continue it.

He well knew there was a chance of his falling a victim to thirst-- almost a certainty, if he did not succeed in finding water.

Stimulated by this knowledge he crept on.

At short intervals he was compelled to pause, and recruit his strength by a little rest. A man does not travel far, on his hands and knees, without feeling fatigued. Much more, when one of the four members cannot be employed in the effort.

His progress was slow and irksome. Besides, it was being made under the most discouraging circ.u.mstances. He might not be going in the right direction? Nothing but the dread of death could have induced him to keep on.

He had made about a quarter of a mile from the point of starting, when it occurred to him that a better plan of locomotion might be adopted-- one that would, at all events, vary the monotony of his march.

"Perhaps," said he, "I might manage to hobble a bit, if I only had a crutch? Ho! my knife is still here. Thank fortune for that! And there's a sapling of the right size--a bit of blackjack. It will do."

Drawing the knife--a "bowie"--from his belt, he cut down the dwarf-oak; and soon reduced it to a rude kind of crutch; a fork in the tree serving for the head.

Then rising erect, and fitting the fork into his armpit, he proceeded with his exploration.

He knew the necessity of keeping to one course; and, as he had chosen the south-east, he continued in this direction.

It was not so easy. The sun was his only compa.s.s; but this had now reached the meridian, and, in the lat.i.tude of Southern Texas, at that season of the year, the midday sun is almost in the zenith. Moreover, he had the chapparal to contend with, requiring constant detours to take advantage of its openings. He had a sort of guide in the sloping of the ground: for he knew that downward he was more likely to find the stream.

After proceeding about a mile--not in one continued march, but by short stages, with intervals of rest between--he came upon a track made by the wild animals that frequent the chapparal. It was slight, but running in a direct line--a proof that it led to some point of peculiar consideration--in all likelihood a watering-place--stream, pond, or spring.

Any of these three would serve his purpose; and, without longer looking to the sun, or the slope of the ground, he advanced along the trail--now hobbling upon his crutch, and at times, when tired of this mode, dropping down upon his hands and crawling as before.

The cheerful antic.i.p.ations he had indulged in, on discovering the trail, soon, came to a termination. It became _blind_. In other words it ran out--ending in a glade surrounded by impervious ma.s.ses of underwood. He saw, to his dismay, that it led _from_ the glade, instead of _towards_ it. He had been following it the wrong way!

Unpleasant as was the alternative, there was no other than to return upon his track. To stay in the glade would have been to die there.

He retraced the trodden path--going on beyond the point where he had first struck it.

Nothing but the torture of thirst could have endowed him with strength or spirit to proceed. And this was every moment becoming more unendurable.

The trees through which he was making way were mostly acacias, interspersed with cactus and wild agave. They afforded scarce any shelter from the sun, that now in mid-heaven glared down through their gossamer foliage with the fervour of fire itself.

The perspiration, oozing through every pore of his skin, increased the tendency to thirst--until the appet.i.te became an agony!

Within reach of his hand were the glutinous legumes of the _mezquites_, filled with mellifluous moisture. The agaves and cactus plants, if tapped, would have exuded an abundance of juice. The former was too sweet, the latter too acrid to tempt him.

He was acquainted with the character of both. He knew that, instead of allaying his thirst, they would only have added to its intensity.

He pa.s.sed the depending pods, without plucking them. He pa.s.sed the succulent stalks, without tapping thorn.

To augment his anguish, he now discovered that the wounded limb was, every moment, becoming more unmanageable. It had swollen to enormous dimensions. Every step caused him a spasm of pain. Even if going in the direction of the doubtful streamlet, he might never succeed in reaching it? If not, there was no hope for him. He could but lie down in the thicket, and die!