“Mark! Mark! where are you?”
It was a most welcome cry, coming from Captain Guerez. In an instant more Alano’s father dashed up through the smoke.
“Captain Guerez!” I gasped, and ran up to his side. “Save me!”
“Where is your horse?” he asked, as he caught me up and assisted me to mount behind him.
“He ran away.”
No more was said. Turning his animal about, Captain Guerez dug his spurs deep into the horse’s flesh, and away we went up the hillside at a rate of speed which soon left the roaring and crackling sugar-cane fields far behind.
In fifteen minutes we had joined the others of the party, on a plateau covered with stunted grass and well out of reach of the fire. Here it was found that my runaway horse had quietly joined his fellows. I was tempted to give him a whipping for leaving me in the lurch, but desisted upon second thought, as it would have done no good and I knew the animal had only done what I was trying to do—save my life.
“That was a narrow escape for you, Mark!” cried Alano, as he came up with an anxious look on his face. “You ought to be more careful about your horse in the future.”
“You can be sure I will be, Alano,” I answered; and then turned to Captain Guerez and thanked him for what he had done for me.