Томас Майн Рид - Всадник без головы / The Headless Horseman

Maurice’s next idea was to cover the body with the cloak in order to protect it from both wolves and vultures – at least till he could get back. But a different plan suggested itself – to take the body along with him to the Port, by laying it across the croup.

“I led my horse up to the spot, and was preparing to put the body upon him, when I saw another horse upon the ground. It was that lately ridden by him who was now no more.

“I had no difficulty in catching hold of the bridle. Holding the reins between my teeth, I lifted the body up, and tried to place it crosswise in the saddle.”

The body was too stiff to bend over, and there was no way to steady it. Maurice was about to give up the idea, when another occurred to him.

“It was suggested by a remembrance of something I had read, relating to the Gauchos of South America. When one dies, or is killed by accident, his comrades carry his corpse to their distant home – strapped in the saddle, and seated in the same attitude, as though he were still alive.”

He decided to do the same with the body of Henry Poindexter.

“I made the attempt – first trying to set him on his own horse.

“But the saddle being a flat one, and the animal still remaining restive, I did not succeed.

“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 would answer admirably for the purpose.”

In a short while he had the body in it, seated erect – in the natural position. He secured it with the help of his lazo.

Then he lifted the head from the ground and tried to detach it from the hat, but that couldn’t be done.

“Having no fear that they would fall apart, I hung both hat and head over the horn of the saddle.

“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.

“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.

Something caused the horse to shy to one side, and break into a gallop.

“He had 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.”

Before Maurice could lay my hand upon the bridle, the horse was at his full speed. Trying to secure the bridle, he didn’t notice that the horse had forsaken the open tract, and was carrying him 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 trees.

“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 horse, 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 better than I. I can only tell you, that 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.

“On rising to my feet, I discovered that I could not walk.

“To stay on that spot was to perish – at least I so thought at the time.

“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 coyotes. They saw that I was disabled; and for this reason had determined upon attacking me.

“After a time they did so. I had no weapon but my knife; and it was fortunate I had that. With the knife I was able to keep them off.

“I was becoming enfeebled by the blood fast pouring from my veins, and must soon have died, but for an unexpected chance that turned up in my favour.

“It showed itself,” he continues, “in the shape of an old comrade – my staghound, Tara.

“The dog had been straying – perhaps in search of me, he found me; and just in time to be my rescuer. I was saved from the coyotes.

“I had another spell of sleep. On awaking I was able to reflect. I knew that the dog must have come from my jacale; which I also knew to be several miles distant.

“I decided to send a message to Phelim – 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.

“Wrapping the card in a piece of buckskin, 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.

“Shortly after the dog took his departure, I once more fell asleep – again awaking to find myself in the presence of an enemy – one more terrible than I had yet encountered.

“It was a jaguar.

“A conflict came off between us; but how it ended I am unable to tell. I leave that to my brave rescuer, Zeb Stump; who, I hope, will soon return to give an account of it.

“All I can remember since then is a series of dreams – until the day before yesterday, when I awoke to find myself the inmate of a prison – with a charge of murder hanging over my head!

“Gentlemen of the jury! I have done.”

The tale is too simple – too circumstantial – to have been contrived, and by a man whose brain is but just recovered from the confusion of fevered fancies. So think the majority of those to whom it has been told.

His confession – irregular as it may have been – has done more for his defence than the most eloquent speech his counsel could have delivered.

Still it is but his own tale; and other testimony will be required to clear him.

Where is the witness upon whom so much is supposed to depend. Where is Zeb Stump?

Five hundred pairs of eyes turn towards the prairie, and scan the horizon with inquiring gaze, waiting for the return of the old hunter – with or without Cassius Calhoun – with or without the Headless Horse, man – now no longer either myth or mystery, but a natural phenomenon, explained and comprehended.

There were few people upon the ground who were not acquainted with this peculiarity of the Texan climate. Texans know they are dwellers in a land, where death can scarce be said to have its successor in decay, where the corpse of mortal man, left uncoffined and uncovered, will, in the short period of eight-and-forty hours, exhibit the signs, and partake of the qualities, of a mummy freshly exhumed from the catacombs of Egypt!

1) Whose dead body did Maurice see? What was the cause of death?

2) What did he do with the body?

3) How did Maurice find himself in the chapparal? What happened to him there?

4) What is the peculiarity of the Texan climate?

The watchful air is kept up for a period of full ten minutes, and along with it the solemn silence.