‘They have all left the hut,’ said Sanchez, as they drew near it, ‘and I think that is the young American, between the two that ride in advance of the party.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, let us spur on, and save him. Who knows what bloody purpose is in their cruel hearts!’ cried Inez.
‘We must spare our horses over this uneven ground, if we hope to catch the villains,’ replied Joaquin.
‘Be it as you say,’ rejoined the maiden, reluctantly checking her eager steed who seemed impatient to leap forward.
While these conversations were proceeding, both parties had reached a fine piece of level ground that stretched away before them in the direction of the Presidio.
‘Now,’ cried Joaquin, ‘urge your horses to the utmost!’ and suiting the action to the words, his long spurs were buried into the side of his charger, who bounded forward like lightning.
Keeping leap for leap with his fleet steed was the gallant animal that bore Inez on his back, while the rest of the party were but a few rods in the rear. The vigilant Blodget soon observed that the pursuers had increased their speed, and were fast lessening the distance between them.
‘Let your horses do their d—est!’ cried the profane fellow, as he struck the rowels deep into the already bleeding sides of his courser.
His followers quickly obeyed his commands, and the pursuers and the pursued were soon scouring over the plain, at the very utmost speed of their respective horses.