"Yes," replied the other; "but he seems dead."
"¡Caray!" resumed Pablito; "It would be a pity; for he was a bold fellow. Where is he?"
"There; on the rock opposite you."
"Can you let him down with the verado's help?"
"Nothing easier; he is as still as a log."
"Make haste, then, in the name of heaven!" said Pablito; "Every minute's delay may be a year's life stolen from him!"
Carlocho and the verado lifted Don Torribio by the feet and shoulders, and with infinite precaution carried him from the improvised fortress he had defended so bravely to one of the fires, and laid him on a bed of leaves prepared by El Zapote; for the four vaqueros were, by a strange chance, reunited in this spot.
"¡Canarios!" cried Pablito, at sight of the miserable man; "Poor devil! How they have mauled him! It was high time for help."
"Do you think he will recover?" asked Carlocho, with great interest.
"There is always hope," said Pablito dogmatically, "when the vital organs are uninjured. Let us look at him."