"How so?" Torribio asked, his voice growing gradually stronger, and already able to rise.
"This is how it was—we are bomberos—" The young man gave a sort of nervous start, which he suddenly checked.
"We are bomberos, and watch the Indians, especially at night. Accident brought us to these parts. Your horse was flying with a pack of red wolves at its heels; we freed it from these brutes; then, as it seemed to us probable that a ready saddled horse could not be without an owner in this forest, where no one ventures, we set out in search of the rider. Your cry guided us."
"How can I pay my debt to you?" Torribio asked, offering his hand to Pedrito.
"You owe us nothing, sir."
"Why?"
"Here is your horse, caballero."
"But I should like to see you again," he said, before starting.
"It is unnecessary; you owe us nothing, I tell you," said Pedrito, who held the horse by the bridle.
"What do you mean?" Don Torribio insisted.