"But José, Manuel is not fit for the saddle; let me go to the house. Please, I beg of you—"
"What! Alone—and at night. Why, the Colonel would say I had risked much should he see you ride in at midnight—alone."
"Uncle? Why uncle Juan is always pleased when I show any bravery; and besides there is nothing else to do. Manuel can't stay with just me here—he is suffering, and he can't ride—so it's the only thing to be done."
"Well, but you will have to ride pretty fast, Señorito, and tell them to send the peons immediately. Here, ride the piebald mare. It's yours anyhow, I dare say, or will be. It has been all day in the corral and is fresh, while Barboza is tired."
José changed the saddle, and Francisco was off towards the casa.
It was nearly two o'clock when Don Carlos awoke the Colonel, who had returned about midnight from his journey.
"Who calls, Colonel? It sounds like the Niño's voice."
They were out by the edge of the house corral, as Francisco rode up, and with almost the last breath he seemed to have left in his little body, he shouted,
"We've caught them! We've caught them! They are over by the 'Last Tribute' shrine near the Rio Salinas, and José and Manuel are waiting for help to bring them here; José could not bring them alone, and Manuel has a wound."
His uncle was lifting the tired Niño from the saddle, but he did not place him on the ground; he carried him close to his heart into the house and laid him on his soft bed. He left him saying he would go with Don Carlos to help rouse the peons, and Francisco heard him blow his nose vigorously as he crossed the patio, and knowing that his Uncle Juan had no cold, he accepted the tribute to his bravery with a proud smile, and was asleep before he knew it.