Long before
we got back to the horses, Shipley had "vamosed" into the mountain,
carrying his light luggage with him; only some blank, envelopes were
lying about, evidently dropped in the hurry of removal.
I knelt down by Falcon's side, and lifted his head out of the dark red
pool in which it lay. Even in the dim light I could see the broad,
bright eye glazing: the death-pang came very soon; he was too weak to
struggle; but a quick, convulsive shiver ran through all the lower
limbs, and, with a sickening hoarse gurgle in the throat, the last
breath was drawn.
My good, stout, patient horse! Few and evil were the days of his
pilgrimage with me; but we had begun to know and like each other well. I
cannot remember to have borne a heavier heart, than when I turned away
from his corpse, half shrouded in a winding-sheet of drifting
snow-flakes--seeing nothing certain in my own future, save frustrated
projects and exhausted resources.
I threw my saddle-bags across Shipley's saddle, and rode slowly down,
three miles, into Greenland. The filly's head drooped wearily, as she
faltered on through the half-frozen mud and water; but no one guessed,
till daylight broke, that she had then got her death-wound.
When we reached the hovel that was the headquarters of the detachment,
only two or three soldiers were lounging around the fire; but the news
of a capture roused most of the sleepers, and the low, dim room was soon
filled, suffocatingly, with a squalid crowd, in and out of uniform:
prominent, in the midst, stood the long, lank, half-dressed figure of
the lieutenant in command.
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