"Heaven be praised! So far—so good," whispered José to Francisco. "Now do just as I bid you; our time is come."
They crossed the ford and were leaving the water, enveloped in the dense shadows, when José dropped from his horse and threw the reins into Francisco's hand; Manuel did the same, as José's voice said in a whisper,
"Ride half a league and wait for us."
And now the boy saw their plan; he was to ride ahead, the hoof beats of the four horses indicating to the pursuers that they were all still fleeing, and José and Manuel in ambush would have it all their own way.
He spurred his horse to its highest speed; but it seemed to him that his heart-beats would drown the hoof beats, so vigorously was it pounding against his side. It was an anxious interval and to the fleeing boy seemed an eternity; but it was really but half a minute when he heard a sharp cry, and then—a shot. But he rode on, fearing to stop until the half league was covered. He knew the fight was over and that either José and Manuel were being carried back to the huts beside the big river, or that they would soon overtake him with their prisoners.
Soon a shout came to his ears. It was José's voice and his mind was relieved. He reined in the horses, which was an easy matter for they were panting, and waited beside a shrine, whose white cross stood like a ghost beside the trail; and soon he saw four figures toiling along, two in front and two behind. The two in the rear were José and Manuel, and they were holding their pistols close to the heads of the two in front, who walked with the shambling gait of men whose feet were hobbled, as they were, with stout bola thongs; their hands were tied behind them, and as they shuffled unevenly along they were bawling out curses, the like of which Francisco's ears had never heard.
But the boy was so eager to hear about their capture that he paid no attention to the vile language, that at any other time would have made him cringe and tremble.
"Oh! José—Manuel—Do tell me all about it! How did you get them?"
"Well, you see, we grappled with them so unexpectedly that they had no time to defend themselves; thanks to the little frog on the end of the string," and José patted the boy on the shoulders encouragingly.
"One of them tried to shoot as he was regaining his feet, just after we dragged them from their horses, and Manuel has a scratch on his thigh, but otherwise, we are all well and doing finely. Manuel will ride on to the casa for help and you and I will remain here to keep these gentlemen company. They are great on talking, just listen to them now. Maybe they will tell us the price of horsehair per kilo—eh, gentlemen?" and the Indian grinned derisively at the cursing men.