"His head! His head! Ay, Dios, what I have suffered!"
An hour before dawn Benito left them, mounted on the rested mustang and leading his own. The others pushed on, over and around the foothills, with what speed they could; for even here the trail was narrow, the pine woods dense. It was just after dawn that Sturges saw Tomaso rein in his mustang and peer into the shrubbery beside the trail. When he reached the spot himself, he saw signs of a struggle. The brush was trampled for some distance into the thicket, and several of the young trees were wrenched almost from their roots.
"It has been a struggle between a man and a wild beast, señor," whispered Tomaso, for Filar still slept. "Shall I go in? The man may breathe yet."
"Go, by all means."
Tomaso dismounted and entered the thicket. He came running back with blinking eyes.
"Madre de Dios!" he exclaimed in a loud whisper. "It is the young priest—Padre Domínguez. It must have been a panther, for they spring at the breast, and his very heart is torn out, señor. Ay, yi!"
"Ah! You must inform the Church as soon as we have gone. Go on."
They had proceeded a few moments in silence, when Sturges suddenly reined in his mustang.
"Tomaso," he whispered, "come here."
The vaquero joined him at once.