He, too, is going in the direction of the river. Heedless of the affrighted deer-either of its presence, or precipitate flight-the Headless Horseman rides on.
But the man-the rider? Ah! About him there is something to cause both-something weird-something wanting!Įven the unreasoning animal can perceive this and, after gazing a moment with wildered eyes-wondering what abnormal monster thus mocks its cervine intelligence-terror-stricken it continues its retreat nor again pauses, till it has plunged through the waters of the Leona, and placed the current of the stream between itself and the ghastly intruder. In it there appears nothing amiss-nothing to produce either wonder or alarm. The horse is perfect in all its parts-a splendid steed, saddled, bridled, and otherwise completely caparisoned. What has challenged the stag to such protracted scrutiny? With haunches in quivering contact with the sward, and frontlet faced to the rear, he continues to gaze-his large brown eyes straining upon the intruder in a mingled expression of fear and bewilderment. Yielding to instinctive dread, he is about to resume his flight: when something in the appearance of the horseman-some unnatural seeming-holds him transfixed to the spot. In the clear moonlight of a southern sky, he recognises the most ruthless of his enemies-man. Springing clear of his couch, and bounding a score of yards across the prairie, he pauses to look back upon the disturber of his dreams. The sound, significant to the ear of the stag, causes a quick change in his air and attitude.
There is a ring of metal-the clinking of steel against stone. He only uprears his head and, with antlers o’ertopping the tall grass, listens for a repetition of the sound.Īgain is the hoofstroke heard, but with altered intonation. His domain is shared by the wild steeds of the savannah, given to nocturnal straying.
He does not forsake his covert, nor yet rise to his feet. The stag of Texas, reclining in midnight lair, is startled from his slumbers by the hoofstroke of a horse.
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