“There was but one other chance of our making the home journey together: by exchanging horses.
“I knew that my own would not object. Besides, my Mexican saddle, with its deep tree, would answer admirably for the purpose.
“In a short while I had the body in it, seated erect, — in the natural position. Its stiffness, that had obstructed me before, now served to keep it in its place. The rigid limbs were easily drawn into the proper stride; and with the feet inserted into the stirrups, and the water-guards buckled tightly over the thighs, there was little chance of the body slipping off.
“To make it thoroughly secure, I cut a length from my lazo; and, warping it round the waist, fastened one end to the pommel in front, the other to the cantle behind.
“A separate piece tied to the stirrups, and passing under the belly of the horse, kept the feet from swinging about.
“The head still remained to be dealt with. It too must be taken along.
“On lifting it from the ground, and endeavouring to detach it from the hat, I found that this could not be done. It was swollen to enormous dimensions; and the sombrero adhered to it — close as the skin itself.
“Having no fear that they would fall apart, I tied a piece of string to the buckle of the band; and hung both hat and head over the horn of the saddle.
“This completed my preparations for the journey.
“I mounted the horse of the murdered man; and, calling upon my own to follow me — he was accustomed to do so without leading — I started to ride back to the settlement.
“In less than five minutes after, I was knocked out of my saddle — and my senses at the same time.
“But for that circumstance I should not be standing here, — at all events, not in the unpleasant position I now hold.”
“Knocked out of your saddle!” exclaims the judge. “How was that?”
“A simple accident; or rather was it due to my own carelessness. On mounting the strange horse I neglected to take hold of the bridle. Accustomed to guide my own — often with only my voice and knees — I had grown regardless of the reins. I did not anticipate an occurrence of the kind that followed.
“The horse I was on, had only stopped three lengths of itself, from the place where I had bestridden him, when something caused him to shy to one side, and break into a gallop.
“I need not say something; for I knew what it was. He had looked round, and seen the other coming on behind, with that strange shape upon his back, that now in the broad light of day was enough to frighten horse or man.
“I clutched at the bridle; but, before I could lay my hand upon it, the horse was at his full speed.
“At first I was but little alarmed; indeed not at all. I supposed I should soon recover the reins, and bring the runaway to a stand.
“But I soon found this could not be so easily done. They had strayed forward, almost to the animal’s ears; and I could not reach them, without laying myself flat along the neck.
“While endeavouring to secure the bridle, I took no heed of the direction in which the horse was taking me. It was only when I felt a sharp twitching against my cheeks, that I discovered he had forsaken the open tract, and was carrying me through the chapparal.
“After that I had no time to make observations — no chance even to look after the lost reins. I was enough occupied in dodging the branches of the mezquites, that stretched out their spinous arms as if desiring to drag me from the saddle.
“I managed to steer clear of them, though not without getting scratches.
“But there was one I could not avoid — the limb of a large tree that projected across the path. It was low down — on a level with my breast — and the brute, shying from something that had given him a fresh start, shot right under it.
“Where he went afterwards I do not attempt to say. You all know that — I believe, better than I. I can only tell you, that, after unhorsing, he left me under the limb, with a lump upon my forehead and a painful swelling in the knee; neither of which I knew anything about till two hours afterwards.
“When my senses came back to me, I saw the sun high up in the heavens, and some scores of turkey buzzards wheeling in circles above me. I could tell by the craning of their necks what was the prey they were expecting.
“The sight of them, as well as my thirst — that was beginning to grow painful — prompted me to move away from the place.
“On rising to my feet, I discovered that I could not walk. Worse still, I was scarce able to stand.
“To stay on that spot was to perish — at least I so thought at the time.
“Urged by the thought, I exerted all the strength left me, in an effort to reach water.
“I knew there was a stream near by; and partly by crawling, — partly by the help of a rude crutch procured in the thicket — I succeeded in reaching it.
“Having satisfied my thirst, I felt refreshed; and soon after fell asleep.
“I awoke to find myself surrounded by coyotés.
“There were at least two score of them; and although at first I had no fear — knowing their cowardly nature — I was soon brought to a different way of thinking.
“They saw that I was disabled; and for this reason had determined upon attacking me.
“After a time they did so — clustering around and springing upon me in a simultaneous onslaught.
“I had no weapon but my knife; and it was fortunate I had that. Altogether unarmed, I must have been torn to pieces, and devoured.
“With the knife I was able to keep them off, stabbing as many as I could get a fair stroke at. Half-a-dozen, I should think, were killed in this way.
“For all that it would have ended ill for me. I was becoming enfeebled by the blood fast pouring from my veins, and must soon have succumbed, but for an unexpected chance that turned up in my favour.
“I can scarce call it chance. I am more satisfied, to think it was the hand of God.”
On pronouncing this speech the young Irishman turns his eyes towards Heaven, and stands for a time as if reflecting reverentially.
Solemn silence around tells that the attitude is respected. The hearts of all, even the rudest of his listeners, seem touched with the confidence so expressed.
“It showed itself,” he continues, “in the shape of an old comrade — one ofttimes more faithful than man himself — my staghound, Tara.
“The dog had been straying — perhaps in search of me — though I’ve since heard a different explanation of it, with which I need not trouble you. At all events, he found me; and just in time to be my rescuer.
“The coyotés scattered at his approach; and I was saved from a fearful fate — I may say, out of the jaws of death.
“I had another spell of sleep, or unconsciousness — whichever it may have been.
“On awaking I was able to reflect. I knew that the dog must have come from my jacalé; which I also knew to be several miles distant. He had been taken thither, the day before, by my servant, Phelim.
“The man should still be there; and I bethought me of sending him a message — the staghound to be its bearer.
“I wrote some words on a card, which I chanced to have about me.
“I was aware that my servant could not read; but on seeing the card he would recognise it as mine, and seek some one who could decipher what I had written upon it.
“There would be the more likelihood of his doing so, seeing that the characters were traced in blood.
“Wrapping the card in a piece of buckskin, to secure it against being destroyed, I attached it to Tara’s neck.
“With some difficulty I succeeded in getting the animal to leave me. But he did so at length; and, as I had hoped, to go home to the hut.