And then he saw, just ahead of him, Captain Ramón. The commandante was drinking from a bottle and talking to some women of the camp. He whirled around when he heard the mad pounding of the horse’s hoofs, and Señor Zorro saw his face go white as he struggled to get his sword from its scabbard. The commandante had recognized him.
The women shrieked and fled. Captain Ramón, his sword out, stood his ground. Straight toward him Señor Zorro raced his horse, bending forward, his dagger held in his right hand again. Now he wished he had his beloved sword!
But Ramón sprang out of the way just in time and swung his blade in a vicious blow. It missed Señor Zorro and struck the horse on the rump, inflicting a minor cut. It had the effect, however, of frightening the animal more. Up the slope he raced, and Señor Zorro sat straight in the saddle and shrieked at the top of his voice:
“Atención! A caballero’s near—”
It was not merely in a spirit of bravado. It was to let the little señorita know, if she did not already, that he was free and riding wildly for help.
CHAPTER XXV.
AT THE PRESIDIO.
In that instant, as he watched the singing Zorro racing up the slope toward the crest, Captain Ramón realized that his future was hanging by a very thin thread. Were he to protect his own interests he must move swiftly.
He sensed that Señor Zorro would make a mad ride for San Diego de Alcála and pour a story into the ear of the commandante of the presidio there. And it was highly imperative that Captain Ramón tell a far better story—and tell it first.
Ramón managed to return his sword to its scabbard, and then he raced with what speed he could toward Barbados and the others, who were following lurchingly in Señor Zorro’s wake. He grasped Barbados by an arm and hurried him aside.
“What happened?” the commandante demanded.