He checked the uplifted hand, and with, a groan dropped the reins, and sank almost helplessly forward on the saddle; for several of the Indians had left the main body and were pursuing him alone, so that there would have been now no chance of his reaching the place where Crusoe fell, even if he could have turned his horse.
Spiritless, and utterly indifferent to what his fate might be, Dick Varley rode along with his head drooping, and keeping his seat almost mechanically, while the mettlesome little steed flew on over wave and hollow.

Gradually he awakened from this state of despair to a sense of danger.

Glancing round he observed that the Indians were now far behind him, though still pursuing.

He also observed that his companions were galloping miles away on the horizon to the left, and that he had foolishly allowed the savages to get between him and them.
The only chance that remained for him was to outride his pursuers, and circle round towards his comrades, and this he hoped to accomplish, for his little horse had now proved itself to be superior to those of the Indians, and there was good running in him still.
Urging him forward, therefore, he soon left the savages still farther behind, and feeling confident that they could not now overtake him he reined up and dismounted.

The pursuers quickly drew near, but short though it was the rest did his horse good.