The savages swore that they
would scalp him; the Canadians vowed that they would make him dance to
death; the English declared that they would hang him; and the Yankees,
they would put him to Indian torture. The Mexicans, not being able any
more to protect their favourite, put a price upon his head. Under these
circumstances, Overton took an aversion to society, concealed himself,
and during two years nothing was heard of him, when, one day, as a party
of Comanches and Tonquewas were returning from some expedition, they
perceived a man on horseback. They knew him to be Overton, and gave
chase immediately.
The chase was a long one. Overton was mounted upon a powerful and noble
steed, but the ground was broken and uneven; he could not get out of the
sight of his pursuers. However, he reached a platform covered with fine
pine trees, and thought himself safe, as on the other side of the wood
there was a long level valley extending for many miles; and there he
would be able to distance his pursuers, and escape. Away he darted like
lightning, their horrible yell still ringing in his ears; he spurred his
horse, already covered with foam, entered the plain, and, to his horror
and amazement, found that between him and the valley there was a
horrible chasm, twenty-five feet in breadth and two hundred feet in
depth, with acute angles of rocks, as numerous as the thorns upon a
prickly pear.
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