The Valiant Runaways [7]
At night you will come to a river. Before you reach it all trace
of you will be lost, because between now and there are many side trails,
and as the ground is so hard they cannot tell which you take. Cross the
river and take the trail to the left. That will bring you to the
Mission--about twenty miles farther--where the good padres will let you
rest and give you fresh horses. The senor, meanwhile, will throw the
officers off the scent. But if you are wise, you will make for the
Sierras and hide there. Adios, senor, adios, senor;" and he wheeled
about and disappeared into the darkness of the canon.
"We are like the babes in the wood," said Adan. "I feel as if we never
should find our way home again."
"We shall," said Roldan, stoutly; although he, too, felt the chill of
the immense solitude. "And we have begun well! What an adventure to
start with! I am sure we shall have more."
Adan crossed himself.
The boys rode at a long even gallop, the high chaparral closing behind
them. Every half hour they paused, and Roldan, dismounting, held his ear
to the ground. But as yet they were unpursued.
A soft wind blew over the plain, fragrant with the honeydew of the
chaparral. The sun set in a great bank of yellow cloud. Then the night
came suddenly.
A few moments later Roldan called: "Halt!" and held up his hand. "I hear
the rush of the water," he said. "We must be near the river."
"It sounds as if it was high," said Adan. "It has rained hard this
month. Suppose these horses don't swim?"
"We'll make them. Come on."
"Ay! yi!" exclaimed Adan, not many moments after.
They pulled up suddenly on the banks of the river, a body of water about
three hundred yards wide. It was swollen almost level with the high
banks. The tumultuous waters were racing as if Neptune astride them was
fleeing from angry gods. There is something unhuman in the roar of an
angry river: it has a knell in it.
Roldan and Adan looked at each other. The latter's face had paled.
Roldan contracted his lids suddenly, and when his friend met the glance
that grew between them he compressed his lips and involuntarily
straightened himself: he knew its significance.
"We must cross," said Roldan. "It would never do to spend the night on
this side. If they followed, they would never suspect us of crossing. If
we remained here, we could not hear them until they were upon us."
"Very well," said Adan.
Roldan raised his bridle. The mustang did not move forward, but cowered.
"I don't like to hurt horses," said the young don, "but he's got to go."
He clapped his spurs savagely against the animal's sides, and the next
moment the waves were lashing about him.
Adan was beside him at once, and together they breasted the rushing
waters. The mustangs were strong and made fair headway, incited by
terror and the spur. The water was very cold, but the boys scarcely felt
it. Their eyes were strained toward the opposite shore, measuring the
distance, which seemed to grow less very slowly. The stars were thick
and the moon was floating just above the chaparral, but the darkness
about them was grim, and only a narrow line of white indicated the
shore.
The horses were not able to keep a straight course. The current lashed
them about more than once, but they righted, shook the water from their
quivering nostrils, and plunged on.
The boys' glance so persistently sought their haven that they saw
nothing of what was passing about them. They were within twenty yards of
the shore. Adan, having the stronger beast, was some little distance
ahead. He did not observe it. He was registering a vow that if he
reached land in safety he would be drafted every year of his life before
he would ford another river after heavy rain.
Suddenly Roldan became conscious that the wiry little body between his
gripping knees had relaxed somewhat the tension of its muscles. Was the
poor brute collapsing? Roldan leaned over and patted his neck. It
responded for a moment, then fell back again. Roldan set his lips. As he
did so he cast
of you will be lost, because between now and there are many side trails,
and as the ground is so hard they cannot tell which you take. Cross the
river and take the trail to the left. That will bring you to the
Mission--about twenty miles farther--where the good padres will let you
rest and give you fresh horses. The senor, meanwhile, will throw the
officers off the scent. But if you are wise, you will make for the
Sierras and hide there. Adios, senor, adios, senor;" and he wheeled
about and disappeared into the darkness of the canon.
"We are like the babes in the wood," said Adan. "I feel as if we never
should find our way home again."
"We shall," said Roldan, stoutly; although he, too, felt the chill of
the immense solitude. "And we have begun well! What an adventure to
start with! I am sure we shall have more."
Adan crossed himself.
The boys rode at a long even gallop, the high chaparral closing behind
them. Every half hour they paused, and Roldan, dismounting, held his ear
to the ground. But as yet they were unpursued.
A soft wind blew over the plain, fragrant with the honeydew of the
chaparral. The sun set in a great bank of yellow cloud. Then the night
came suddenly.
A few moments later Roldan called: "Halt!" and held up his hand. "I hear
the rush of the water," he said. "We must be near the river."
"It sounds as if it was high," said Adan. "It has rained hard this
month. Suppose these horses don't swim?"
"We'll make them. Come on."
"Ay! yi!" exclaimed Adan, not many moments after.
They pulled up suddenly on the banks of the river, a body of water about
three hundred yards wide. It was swollen almost level with the high
banks. The tumultuous waters were racing as if Neptune astride them was
fleeing from angry gods. There is something unhuman in the roar of an
angry river: it has a knell in it.
Roldan and Adan looked at each other. The latter's face had paled.
Roldan contracted his lids suddenly, and when his friend met the glance
that grew between them he compressed his lips and involuntarily
straightened himself: he knew its significance.
"We must cross," said Roldan. "It would never do to spend the night on
this side. If they followed, they would never suspect us of crossing. If
we remained here, we could not hear them until they were upon us."
"Very well," said Adan.
Roldan raised his bridle. The mustang did not move forward, but cowered.
"I don't like to hurt horses," said the young don, "but he's got to go."
He clapped his spurs savagely against the animal's sides, and the next
moment the waves were lashing about him.
Adan was beside him at once, and together they breasted the rushing
waters. The mustangs were strong and made fair headway, incited by
terror and the spur. The water was very cold, but the boys scarcely felt
it. Their eyes were strained toward the opposite shore, measuring the
distance, which seemed to grow less very slowly. The stars were thick
and the moon was floating just above the chaparral, but the darkness
about them was grim, and only a narrow line of white indicated the
shore.
The horses were not able to keep a straight course. The current lashed
them about more than once, but they righted, shook the water from their
quivering nostrils, and plunged on.
The boys' glance so persistently sought their haven that they saw
nothing of what was passing about them. They were within twenty yards of
the shore. Adan, having the stronger beast, was some little distance
ahead. He did not observe it. He was registering a vow that if he
reached land in safety he would be drafted every year of his life before
he would ford another river after heavy rain.
Suddenly Roldan became conscious that the wiry little body between his
gripping knees had relaxed somewhat the tension of its muscles. Was the
poor brute collapsing? Roldan leaned over and patted his neck. It
responded for a moment, then fell back again. Roldan set his lips. As he
did so he cast