Всадник без головы / The Headless Horseman. Майн Рид

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СКАЧАТЬ nothing to nobody, I came over here, fast as my old mare could fetch me.”

      “Will you step this way, Mr Stump?” said the young Irishman, rising from his stool, and proceeding in the direction of the door.

      The hunter followed, not without showing some surprise at the abrupt invitation.

      Maurice conducted his visitor round to the rear of the cabin; and, pointing into the shed, inquired—

      “Does that look anything like the mustang you’ve been speaking of?”

      “Dog-gone my cats, if it’s not the same! Caught already! Two hundred dollars! Young fellow, you’re in luck: two hundred, – and the animal’s worth every cent of the money! Won’t Miss Poindexter be pleased!”

Answer the following questions:

      1) How does Maurice’s dwelling characterize its owner? Describe it.

      2) Who is Phelim?

      3) Who is Maurice’s new captive?

      4) Why was Maurice unable to obtain repose? What did he talk about in his dreams?

      5) Who is Zeb Stump? What did he come for?

      Chapter Four

      The estate, or “hacienda,”[19] known as Casa del Corvo, extends along the wooded bottom of the Leona River. A structure of superior size whose white walls show conspicuously against the green background of forest with which it is half encircled. It is the newly acquired estate of the Louisiana planter and his family.

      Louise Poindexter flung herself into a chair in front of her dressing-glass, and directed her maid Florinda to prepare her for the reception of guests. It was the day fixed for the “house-warming,”[20] and about an hour before the time appointed for dinner to be on the table.

      Soon they loud voices were heard in the courtyard.

      “Oh, Mr Zebulon Stump, is it you?” exclaimed a silvery voice, followed by the appearance of Louise Poindexter upon the verandah.

      “I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” continued the young lady, “you said you were going upon a long journey. Well – I am pleased that you are here; and so will papa and Henry be. Pluto! go instantly to Chloe, the cook, and see what she can give you for Mr Stump’s dinner.

      Zeb told Louise that he had come to talk to her father about the spotted mustang that he’d promised to purchase for her. She asked who caught it, and the hunter told her it was a mustanger.

      “His name?”

      “Well, as to the name of his family, I’ve never heard it. He’s known up there about the Fort as Maurice the mustanger.”

      The old hunter was not sufficiently observant to take note of the tone of eager interest in which the question had been asked, nor the sudden deepening of colour upon the cheeks of the questioner as she heard the answer. Neither had escaped the observation of Florinda.

      “Miss Looey!” exclaimed the latter, “that’s the name of the brave young white gentleman – that saved us in the black prairie?”

      “Yes!” resumed the hunter, relieving the young lady from the necessity of making reply. “He told me of that circumstance this very morning, before we started. That’s the very fellow as has trapped the spotty; and he is trotting the creature along at this identical minute, in company with about a dozen others. He ought to be here before sundown. I pushed my old mare ahead, to tell your father the spotty was coming, and let him get the first chance of buying. I thought of you, Miss Louise!”

      Lightly did Louise Poindexter trip back across the corridor. Only after entering her chamber, did she give way to a reflection of a more serious character, that found expression in words low murmured, but full of mystic meaning —

      “It is my destiny: I feel – I know that it is! I dare not meet, and yet I cannot shun it – I may not – I would not – I will not!”

***

      On that same evening, after the dining-hall had been deserted, the roof, instead of the drawing-room, was chosen as the place of re-assemblage.

      The company now collected to welcome the advent of Woodley Poindexter on his Texan estate, were the elite of the Settlements – not only of the Leona, but of others more distant.

      His lovely daughter Louise – the fame of whose beauty had been before her, even in Texas – acted as mistress of the ceremonies – moving about among the admiring guests with the smile of a queen, and the grace of a goddess.

      To say that Louise Poindexter was beautiful would only be to repeat the universal verdict of the society that surrounded her. A single glance was sufficient to satisfy any one upon this point – strangers as well as acquaintances.

      She was the cynosure of a hundred pairs of eyes, the happiness of a score of hearts, and perhaps the torture of as many more.

      But mingling in that splendid crowd was a man who, perhaps, more than any one present, watched her every movement; and endeavoured more than any other to interpret its meaning. It was Cassius Calhoun.

      At intervals, not very wide apart, the young mistress might have been seen to approach the parapet, and look across the plain, with a glance that seemed to interrogate the horizon of the sky.

      Why she did so no one could tell. No one presumed to conjecture, except Cassius Calhoun. He had thoughts upon the subject – thoughts that were torturing him.

      When a group of moving forms appeared upon the prairie, emerging from the light of the setting sun – when the spectators pronounced it a drove of horses in charge of some mounted men – the ex-officer of volunteers had a suspicion as to who was conducting that cavalcade.

      “Wild horses!” announced the major commandant of Fort Inge, after a short inspection through his pocket telescope. “Some one bringing them in,” he added, a second time raising the glass to his eye. “Oh! I see now – it’s Maurice the mustanger. He appears to be coming direct to your place, Mr Poindexter.”

      “I am sure of it,” said the planter’s son. “I can tell that horseman to be Maurice Gerald.”

      The cavalcade came up, Maurice sitting handsomely on his horse, with the spotted mare at the end of his lazo. The mustanger looked splendid, despite his travel-stained habiliments. His journey of over twenty miles had done little to fatigue him.

      “What a beautiful creature!” exclaimed several voices, as the captured mustang was led up in front of the house.

      “Surely,” said Poindexter, “this must be the animal of which old Zeb Stump has been telling me?”

      “Ye-es, Mister Poindexter; the identical creature – a mare,” answered Zeb Stump, making his way towards Maurice with the design of assisting him.

      “I shall owe you two hundred dollars for this,” said the planter, addressing himself to Maurice, and pointing to the spotted mare. “I think that was the sum stipulated for by Mr Stump.”

      “I was not a party to the stipulation,” replied the mustanger, with a significant but well-intentioned smile. “I cannot take your money. She is not for sale. You have СКАЧАТЬ