In the
intense darkness neither could see, neither hear, the other; the
instinct of the beasts kept them together, but no word could be heard
above the roar of the storm, and no light broke the somber veil of
shadow through which they passed as fast as leopards course through the
night. The first faint streak of dawn grew gray in the east when Cecil
felt his charger stagger and sway beneath him, and halt, worn out and
quivering in every sinew with fatigue. He threw himself off the animal
in time to save himself from falling with it as it reeled and sank to
the ground.
"Massena cannot stir another yard," he said. "Do you think they follow
us still?"
There was no reply.
He strained his sight to pierce the darkness, but he could distinguish
nothing; the gloom was still too deep. He spoke more loudly; still there
was no reply. Then he raised his voice in a shout; it rang through the
silence, and, when it ceased, the silence reigned again.
A deadly chill came on him. How had he missed his comrade? They must be
far apart, he knew, since no response was given to his summons; or--the
alternative rose before him with a terrible foreboding.
That intense quiet had a repose as of death in it, a ghastly loneliness
that seemed filled with desolation. His horse was stretched before him
on the sand, powerless to rise and drag itself a rood onward, and fast
expiring. From the plains around him not a sound came, either of friend
or foe.
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