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<SPAN name="chap67"></SPAN> <h3>Chapter Sixty Seven.</h3> <h4>Passed by the Pursuit.</h4> <p>I must have fallen upon my back, or else turned upon it after falling. On opening my eyes, the sky was the first object that my glance encountered. I saw only a strip of it, of dark-blue colour, bordered on each side by black. I knew it was the sky by its twinkling stars; and that the black borderings were the cliffs of the cañon. By this I remembered where I was, and the stars and darkness admonished me it was still night. There was hot air upon my face—as if some one was behind breathing down upon me. I turned my head, and looked upward. A pair of brilliant eyes were glancing into mine. So confused were my senses, that it was some time before I made them out to be the eyes of my Arab. He was standing over me, with his muzzle close to my forehead. It was his breath I had felt upon my face. I could not tell how long I had been entranced. I had no clue to the time of night, and I was not in a position to consult the stars. I must have lain several hours, partly in syncope, and partly asleep. It was fortunate I had a buffalo-robe around my body. I had found it lying upon the plain among the dead men; and had snatched it up, and tied it around my shoulders as I rode on. But for it, I might have perished in my slumber: since the night was chill, and I had neither covering on my back, nor blood in my veins, to resist the cold. It was the absence of the latter that had brought me to the ground. I had left most of my blood upon the butte.</p> <p>Sleep or time had revived me. I was able to get to my feet; and I arose. I was still weak, and staggered like a lamb; but my senses were sufficiently clear; and I now recollected everything that had transpired. I was also conscious of the danger of remaining in that place; and it was this thought that induced me to get up—with the intention of going forward.</p> <p>I was strong enough to mount, and just strong enough to keep the seat upon my horse; but I was aware of the necessity of putting a wider distance between myself and the Red-Hand before daylight should arrive; and I continued onward up the ravine. The trace was easily followed—more easily than when I first entered the cañon. There was more light; and this must have been caused by a moon. I could see none—the cliffs hindered me—but the strip of sky visible above the rocks showed the sheen of moonlight.</p> <p>I rode but slowly. Feeble though I was, I could have ridden faster, but I was proceeding with caution. Strange as it may seem, I was now paying more regard to the front than the rear. I had a suspicion that my pursuers might be <i>ahead</i> of me. I could hardly believe in their having abandoned the pursuit, after so slight an effort. Too many of them had fallen by my hand. They would scarce let me escape so easily, and with my scalp untaken: I had ascertained that the trophy was still upon my head. It was quite possible they had passed me. While endeavouring to mount my horse, I had drawn him from the path; and the place where I had found myself lying was behind some bushes, where I should have been screened from the eyes of any one riding along the track. In daylight I might have been seen; but not then. At that hour the darkness would have concealed me. And it <i>had</i> concealed me, as I soon after discovered. My suspicion that the pursuers had passed me proved the means of saving me. But for the caution it had prompted me to observe, I should have ridden head to head against their horses! I had proceeded about a mile further, and was still advancing when my steed raised his head horizontally, and gave utterance to a low snort. At the same instant, he stopped without any tightening of the rein! Above the sough of the stream, I heard noises. The intonation of the red man’s voice was easily recognised. There were Indians in front of me! Were they coming or going? The voices grew louder as I listened—the speakers were nearing me.</p> <p>My first thought was to glide behind the trees; but a glance showed me that these were not tall enough. They were mere bushes. They might have concealed the body of a man; but a horse standing up could not have been hidden behind them. For a moment I was undecided as to how I should act—till I bethought me of turning, and riding back to where I had lain. I was in the act of facing about, when through the sombre light I observed a break in the cliff. It appeared to be a gap—the entrance of a lateral ravine. It offered a chance of concealment: since it was even darker than within the cañon itself. I hesitated not about accepting the shelter it promised; and, heading my horse into it, I rode rapidly but silently forward.</p> <p>When fairly concealed under its shadowy gloom, I again halted and listened. I heard the hoof-strokes of horses and the voices of men. I recognised the deep guttural of the Arapahoes. A troop was riding past, going back towards the valley. They were those who had pursued me. Were these <i>all</i> of my pursuers. There appeared to be only a small party—ten or a dozen horsemen. Others might have gone up the river, who had not yet returned. It was this doubt that caused me to hesitate; otherwise I should have ridden back into the cañon, and kept on up the stream. But by doing so I might place myself between two parties of my pursuers, with no chance of retreating in either direction. Moreover, pickets might have been stationed along the path. To fall upon one of these would be fatal. Why not follow the lateral ravine? I might ride up that for a distance, and then leaving it, cross over to the caravan trace—above any point to which the pursuit might have been carried?</p> <p>This plan appeared feasible; and, without delay, I adopted it. I rode on up the gorge, which very much resembled that I had left—only that there was no water in it. It had not been always so: for my path here and there ran over a channel of rocks, which indicated the bed of a stream, now dry. I followed the ravine for a mile or more; and then looked for a path that would take me across to the caravan trail. I looked in vain. Stupendous cliffs rose on each side. I could not scale them. I had no choice but to keep on up the ravine; but that would be going at right angles to my proper course!</p> <p>There was no alternative but to halt and wait for daylight. Indeed, I was too faint to ride further. Slight exertion fatigued me; and, no longer in dread of immediate danger I deemed it more prudent to stop, and, if possible, gain strength by rest. I dismounted, gave my horse to the grass; and, having wrapped myself in the warm robe, soon entered upon the enjoyment of sleep—sweeter and more natural than the involuntary slumber in which I had been lately indulging.</p> <hr /></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />

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