The first two rooms were empty, but bore unmistakable signs of a desperate flight and struggle. Then a landing, a door and a dark cupboard, from which a loud cry for help now resounded throughout the deserted hacienda. Dick, signing to the Marquis to turn the light into the corner, bent down, and dragged a body from the cupboard. It was Libertad!
Covered with knife-wounds, the negro boy was on the point of’ death, struggling for air. They took him into the next room, and threw open the windows, while Dick questioned him brutally. “Where is your mistress?” A feeble hand pointed toward the sierra, and Dick stood away from the dying man. That was all he wanted to know. The Red Ponchos were already on the road to the mountains with his fiancée.
He dashed down into the road to find Uncle Francis with little Christobal. The boy, climbing into the motor had discovered his sister’s cloak there, and was crying over it. He threw himself into Dick’s arms, but was roughly pushed aside while the young engineer raged impotently.
What could he do? Anything for a horse, a mule, something to carry on the pursuit! The irony of it! That motor there, which had served for the crime, was useless now on the narrow rocky mountain pathway which they must follow.
Then little Christobal, listening with wide-open eyes, started. He had heard a noise at the far end of the court. Could there be horses in that deserted bodega. It sounded just like hoofs stamping on a plank flooring. Then the child heard a faint neigh.
Dick had vanished, and Christobal, running toward the farm buildings, slipped through a half-open door. Yes, there was something there... llamas... three llamas,.. but thin, miserable creatures, worn out by the heavy loads of years, and incapable of carrying even a child. But llamas do not neigh. The boy slipped round the corner of the building, and stopped short in the shadow. Sitting motionless a few yards away was a horseman, watching the house. At his stirrup, attentively immobile as the horseman, was a llama—one of those light, fine-limbed, long-necked beasts which carry a man’s belongings and follow him like a dog.
As Christobal caught sight of them, the horse shied. The rider reined it in, and swore, but his oath was cut short by a shot. A shadow had risen in the night, only a few feet away, and had fired; the rider rolled from his saddle, while the shadow, seizing the horse’s bridle, swung itself into his place. Little Christobal ran toward it.
“Tell your father I’ve bagged one of them,” shouted Dick, turning his mount and riding for the sierra.
The child, without answering, ran after the llama, which in its turn was following the horse. His little fingers caught in its wool, he checked it with the words one uses to llamas, scrambled up and dashed after Dick. Uncle Francis, on the roadway, was passed by two black streaks, and left alone there, speechless.
Meanwhile, in the room on the first floor, Libertad was making his confession. Natavitad had realized, and had made the Marquis realize, the great value to them which this might have. Nor, to tell the truth, did he forget the value of the Marquis as a witness to this confession, which he regarded in the light of a valuable piece of fresh evidence in his case against the Indians generally. For this twofold reason, Natividad was merciless, and forced the negro to speak till his last breath.