His foot caught among some roots
and with a despairing cry he fell upon his face. But as he struck the
ground there was a sharp, lashing report, far different from the dull boom
of a musket, and the great animal suddenly ploughed forward on his head.
So violent was his plunge, as he was stricken in mid-charge, that his neck
was broken, and, after his crashing fall, he lay quite still.
The young Spaniard, Luiz, sprang to his feet unharmed, and he was
confronted by a figure that startled him, the figure of a very tall and
powerful youth, clad wholly in deerskin, leaning on a long, slender
barreled Kentucky rifle, and looking at him contemplatively. So sudden was
his appearance and so fixed his gaze that Luiz, although joyful over his
escape from death, was startled and awed. His adventure of a few nights
before when he was seized, bound, and gagged by unseen but powerful hands
had left him shaken, and now his brain was whirling.
The young Spaniard stared at the figure, which neither moved nor spoke,
but which returned his gaze with a fixed look. Was it a spirit, or was it
really one of the Americans? But whatever it was, it had, beyond a doubt,
saved his life, and deep down in his Spanish heart he was not ungrateful.
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