Томас Майн Рид - Всадник без головы / The Headless Horseman

“In three seconds I was asleep.

“I could not have been unconscious for more than two minutes, when a sound awoke me. It was the report of a gun.

“I sprang to my feet, and stood listening. But as I could hear nothing more, and the mustang soon quieted down, I came to the conclusion that I had been mistaken.

“I again lay down along the grass; and once more fell asleep.

“This time I was not awakened until the raw air of the morning began to chill me through the cloak.

“I was about to continue my journey.

“But the shot seemed still ringing in my ears. It appeared, too, to be in the direction in which Henry Poindexter had gone.

“Fancy or no fancy, I could not help connecting it with him; nor yet resist the temptation to go back that way and seek for an explanation of it.

“I did not go far till I found it. Oh, Heavens! What a sight! I saw—”

“The Headless Horseman!” exclaims a voice from the outer circle of the spectators, causing one and all to turn suddenly in that direction.

It is the Headless Horseman himself seen out upon the open plain, in all his fearful shape!

“He’s making straight for the Fort!”

As if to contradict that assertion, the strange equestrian makes a sudden pause upon the prairie, and stands observing the crowd gathered around the tree.

Then, apparently not liking the looks of what is before him, the horse gives utterance to his dislike with a loud snort, followed by a still louder neighing.

Three-fourths of the spectators forsake the spot, and rush towards their horses.

The chase leads straight across the prairie – towards the tract of chapparal, ten miles distant. But few get within sight of the thicket; and only two enter it, in anything like close proximity to the escaping horseman.

The two men are Cassius Calhoun and Zeb Stump.

In a short time both are lost to the eyes of those riding less resolutely behind.

On through the thicket rush the three horsemen.

“Curse the damned thing!” cries Calhoun, with a gesture of chagrin. “It’s going to escape me again! Not so much matter, if there were nobody after it but myself. But there is this time. That old hound’s coming on through the thicket.”

Calhoun rides forward – fast as the track will allow him.

Two hundred paces further on, and he again comes to a halt – surprise and pleasure simultaneously lighting up his countenance.

The Headless Horseman is standing among some low trees. The horse has become engaged in a sort of struggle – with his head half buried among the bushes. Calhoun sees that it is held there, and it has become entangled around the stem of a tree!

“Caught at last! Thank God – thank God!”

In another instant, he is by the side of the Headless Horseman!

Calhoun clutches at the bridle. The horse tries to avoid him, but cannot. The rider pays no attention, nor makes any attempt to avoid the capture; but sits stiff and mute in the saddle.

Suddenly the captor draws his knife from its sheath; clutches a corner of the serape; raises it above the breast of the Headless rider; and then bends towards him, as if intending to plunge the blade into his heart!

But the blow is stayed by a shout sent forth from the chapparal – by the edge of which Zeb Stump has just made his appearance.

“Stop that game!” cries the hunter, riding out from the underwood and advancing rapidly through the low bushes; “stop it!”

Forsaken by two-thirds of its spectators – abandoned, by one-half of the jury – the trial taking place under the tree is of necessity interrupted.

Everyone hopes that the Headless Horseman will be captured. They believe that his capture will not only supply a clue to the mystery of his being, but will also throw light on that of the murder.

There is one among them who could explain the first – though ignorant of the last. The accused could do this; and will, when called upon to continue his confession.

After a while the pursuers return. It is soon discovered that two who started in the chase have not reappeared. They are the old hunter and the ex-captain of volunteers. The latter has been last seen heading the field, the former following not far behind him.

An hour elapses, and there is no sign of them – either with or without the captive.

It is decided to go on with the trial – as much of it as can be got through without the witness who is absent. He may be back before the time comes for calling him.

1) Who overtook Maurice? What did he want?

2) What did Maurice and Henry do after their reconciliation?

3) Who interrupted Maurice’s account?

4) Who managed to overtake the headless horseman? What was Calhoun about to do when Zeb appeared?

“You were about to tell us what you saw,” proceeds the counsel for the accused, addressing himself to his client. “Go on, and complete your statement. What was it you saw?”

“A man lying at full length upon the grass.”

“Asleep?”

“Yes; in the sleep of death. On bending over him, I saw that he had been beheaded!”

“What! His head cut off?”

“Just so. He was upon his face – with the head in its natural position. Even the hat was still on it!

“As I stooped low to look at it, I perceived the salt smell that proceeds from human blood. I no longer doubted that it was a dead body I was bending over; and I set about examining it.

“I saw that the head was severed from the shoulders!”

A sensation of horror runs through the auditory.

“Did you know the man?”

“Alas! yes.”

“Without seeing his face?”

“It did not need that. The dress told who it was – too truly. The striped blanket covering his shoulders and the hat upon his head. They were my own. But for the exchange we had made, I might have fancied it was myself. It was Henry Poindexter.”

“On touching the body, I found it cold and stiff. I could see that it had been dead for some length of time.

“I might have mistaken the cause of death, and supposed it to have been by the beheading. But, remembering the shot I had heard in the night, it occurred to me that another wound would be found somewhere – in addition to that made by the knife.

“It proved that I was right. On turning the body breast upward, I perceived a hole in the serape; that all around the place was saturated with blood.

“On lifting it up, and looking underneath, I saw a livid spot [60]just over the breast-bone. I could tell that a bullet had entered there; and as there was no corresponding wound at the back, I knew it must be still inside the body.”

“Had you any suspicion why, or by whom, the foul deed had been done?”

“Not then, not the slightest. I was so horrified, I could not reflect. I could scarce think it real. I had never heard of Henry Poindexter having an enemy – either here or elsewhere.

“What did you do, after making the observations you have described?”

“For some time I scarce knew what to do – I was so perplexed by what I saw beside me. I felt convinced that there had been a murder; and equally so that it had been done by the shot – the same I had heard.

“What was best to be done? To stay by the dead body could serve no purpose. To bury it would have been equally idle.

“Then I thought of galloping back to the Fort, and getting assistance to carry it to Casa del Corvo.

“But if I left it in the chapparal, the coyotes might discover it; and both they and the vultures would be at it before we could get back.

“Mutilated as was the young man’s form, I could not think of leaving it, to be made still more so. I thought of the tender eyes that must soon behold it – in tears.”