s life in danger; one that's dear to
me, as I reckon he'd be to all o' ye, ef ye knowed him, same's I do. Ye
heerd what the old kurnel sayed, as we war startin' out: _cost what it
mout, Charley Clancy air to be saved_. So put the prod to your
critters, an' let's on!"

Saying this, the hunter spurs his horse to its best speed; and soon all
are going at full gallop in straight course for the cottonwood.

CHAPTER EIGHTY SIX.

ALONE WITH THE DEAD.

Beside the body of his fallen foe stands Charles Clancy, but with no
intention there to tarry long. The companionship of the dead is ever
painful, whether it be friend or enemy. With the latter, alone, it may
appal. Something of this creeps over his spirit while standing there;
for he has now no strong passion to sustain him, not even anger.

After a few moments, he turns his back on the corpse, calling Brasfort
away from it. The dog yet shows hostility; and, if permitted, would
mutilate the lifeless remains. Its fierce canine instinct has no
generous impulse, and is only restrained by scolding and threats.

The sun is beginning to show above the horizon, and Clancy perceives
Darke's horse tearing about over the plain. He is reminded of his
promise made to Jupiter.

The animal does not go clear off, but keeps circling round, as if it
desired to come back again; the presence of the other horse attracting,
and giving it confidence. Clancy calls to it, gesticulating in a
friendly manner, and uttering exclamations of encouragement. By little
and little, it draws nearer, till at length its muzzle is in contact
with that of his own steed; and, seizing the bridle, he secures it.

Casting a last look at the corpse, he turns to the horses, intending to
take departure from the spot. So little time has been spent in the
pursuit, and the short conflict succeeding, it occurs to him he may
overtake Jupiter, before the latter has reached the San Saba.

Scanning around to get bearings, his eye is attracted to an object, now
familiar--the lone cottonwood. It is not much over two miles off. On
Darke's trail he must have ridden at least leagues. Its crooked course,
however, explains the tree's proximity. The circles and zig-zags have
brought both pursued and pursuer nigh back to the starting point.

Since the cottonwood is there, he cannot be so far from the other place,
he has such reason to remember; and, again running his eye around, he
looks for it.

He sees it n