Down toward him rushed the big stallion, still frightened because of the din of battle. Señor Zorro swept another man from before him and sprang at the horse. He went upon the animal’s back, lurched sickeningly for an instant, and righted himself. His balance regained, he kicked at the flanks of his mount. It was all that he could do. The horse was without saddle or bridle, without even a halter.
The animal hesitated, and Señor Zorro kicked again with what strength he could. And the horse, suddenly terrified, sprang forward like some supernatural beast. The pirates went down before him and before Señor Zorro’s blade.
Up the slope the big stallion started, almost running down Sergeant Gonzales and the pirates who had already taken him prisoner. Past Fray Felipe he sprang, and Señor Zorro saw the aged fray’s hand raised in blessing.
Like a wild animal the stallion dashed at a group of the victorious pirates, who shrieked and scattered to either side. Señor Zorro rode erect, his sword flashing, and he was laughing wildly, like a man on the verge of hysterics.
“Señores! Have you ever seen this one?” he screeched.
He leaned to one side as the plunging horse went forward, locked his heels in the animal’s flanks. He grasped one of the pirates and lifted him from the ground, whirled him around and sent him flying through space.
He would have guided the animal back and made an effort to disconcert his foes further, but the horse could not be guided. And so Señor Zorro rode on up the slope and away from the pirates’ camp—rode his fiery, unmanageable mount straight at the fringe of trees on the top of the hill.
From the distance came Barbados, fiendish, cursing, because the man he most wanted to capture had made an escape.
And Señor Zorro answered it, also from a distance, with a burst of song:
“Atención! A caballero’s near—”