And now, in the distance, he observed a squad of horsemen leave the plaza and start out along the road toward him, and he saw the sun flashing from steel and knew them for soldiers.
“I did not think it of him—that he would have me pursued because of a duel,” the caballero said, aloud. “The thrust could not have been serious. Heaven knows I have used it many a time, and never death came from it yet.”
He watched until the horsemen were within half a mile and then remembered that he sat his steed against the sky and could be easily seen. He was seen—for he heard the soldiers’ cries and saw that they were spurring up their horses.
The caballero did not know this country as the troopers did, but he made his way down the side of the hill to the floor of the cañon, where there was a narrow trail, and along this he galloped swiftly, knowing well his horse was as fresh and swift as any that followed.
At the end of a mile he stopped to listen, and heard the beating of horses’ hoofs and the cries of their riders. He went on along the cañon, hoping he would not find himself cornered against the side of some steep hill where there would be no way of escape.
There was a curve in the trail presently, and rocks prevented him seeing what was beyond, but he did not slacken his horse’s speed. He took the curve on a run and emerged into an open space where there was a tiny stream, a few dwarfed trees, green grass and wild flowers—an oasis in a desert. Scores of teepees stood along the brook, heaps of ashes told where fires had been. The caballero remembered his Indian visitors had spoken of a camp in the cañon, and supposed this to be the place.
But no horde of gentiles rushed from the teepees to accost him and demand his business, and it was apparent that the camp had been deserted. On the opposite side of the open space a trail led off toward the south, and the caballero, without even pulling rein, rode toward it, determined to follow it until he threw off pursuit.
His horse splashed across the brook and sprang into the mouth of the trail, to half whirl with a snort of fright and start up the side of the rocky hill. Swinging far out to one side and standing in his stirrups, the caballero pulled on the reins and jerked the beast back into the path—and an Indian grasped the bridle.
“Señor!” he shouted.
“Out of my way! The soldiers pursue!”