Лучшие романы Томаса Майна Рида / The Best of Thomas Mayne Reid

Is the macho coming on?”

“Close at hand, Don Mauricio. Making straight for myself.”

“Fling your rope over him, if you can. If not, cripple him with a shot – anything to put an end to his capers.”

The character of the pursuer was still a mystery to most, if not all, upon the ground: for only the mustanger knew the exact signification of the phrases – “un asino cimmaron,” “un macho.”

“Explain, Maurice!” commanded the major. “Look yonder!” replied the young Irishman, pointing to the top of the hill.

The two words were sufficient. All eyes became directed towards the crest of the ridge, where an animal, usually regarded as the type of slowness and stupidity, was seen advancing with the swiftness of aВ bird upon the wing.

But very different is the “asino cimmaron” from the ass of civilisation – the donkey be-cudgelled into stolidity.

The one now in sight was aВ male, almost as large as any of the mustangs it was chasing; and if not fleet as the fleetest, still able to keep up with them by the sheer pertinacity of its pursuit!

The tableau of nature, thus presented on the green surface of the prairie, was as promptly produced as it could have been upon the stage of aВ theatre, or the arena of aВ hippodrome.

Scarce aВ score of words had passed among the spectators, before the wild mares were close up to them; and then, as if for the first time, perceiving the mounted party, they seemed to forget their dreaded pursuer, and shied off in aВ slanting direction.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” shouted the guide to a score of people, endeavouring to restrain their steeds; “keep your places, if you can. I know where the herd has its haunt. They are heading towards it now; and we shall find them again, with a better chance of a chase. If you pursue them at this moment, they’ll scatter into yonder chapparal; and ten to one if we ever more get sight of them.

“Hola[148 - Hola! – Hello! (Spanish)], Señor Crespino! Send your bullet through that brute. He’s near enough for your escopette, is he not?”

The Mexican, detaching a short gun – “escopeta” – from his saddle-flap, and hastily bringing its butt to his shoulder, fired at the wild ass.

The animal brayed on hearing the report; but only as if in defiance. He was evidently untouched. Crespino’s bullet had not been truly aimed.