sent Don Pablo reeling against the wall. Billie was much the heavier, but the old man was a bunch of sinews. Both gathered themselves for a spring as Don Pablo gave a cry that sounded like a wild beast and could be heard all over the hacienda.
“Gringo dog!” he exclaimed. “Now I have you!” and he made a dash at the boy.
Billie raised the revolver in his hand as though to fire, and then changed his mind.
“He must be unarmed,” he thought, “and I don’t want to kill him.”
He shoved his arm out sharply and the barrel of the revolver struck Don Pablo full in the face, knocking him to the ground.
With a yell which he had learned from the Wyoming cowboys, Billie sprang over the prostrate form and dashed away in the darkness.
[CHAPTER XXVIII.—A QUESTION OF NEUTRALITY.]
So sudden had been Billie’s assault and escape that it was several minutes before those in and about the hacienda could understand what had occurred. But when they did at last comprehend, they started after him with a wild cry of revenge.
This time, however, Billie knew his ground and whither he was going. Straight as an arrow he ran, in spite of the darkness, and, several minutes before the pursuing Mexicans had reached the river, he had unfastened the boat and launched it into the stream. With the aid of one oar, which he used as a paddle, he was slowly disappearing in the gloom when he heard the pursuers upon the bank. Several shots were fired at him, but all went wild. In a few minutes he was within hailing distance of the American shore.
Thinking it wise under the circumstances, he called aloud as he approached land, and after two or three shouts received an answer from the patrol.