"Pray continue, señor," said Don Carlos, bending forward as if deeply interested.
"I dismounted at the door of his building and walked inside. He had candles burning, and there were half a dozen fellows trading with him. I covered them with my pistol and drove them into a corner, and ordered this storekeeper before me. I frightened him thoroughly, and forced him to disgorge the money he had in a secret hiding place. And then I lashed him with a whip taken from his own wall, and told him why I had done it."
"Excellent!" Don Carlos cried.
"Then I sprang on my horse and dashed away. At a native's hut I made a placard, saying that I was a friend of the oppressed. Feeling particularly bold that evening, I galloped up to the door of the presidio, brushed aside the sentry—who took me for a courier—and pinned the placard to the door of the presidio with my knife. Just then the soldiers came rushing out. I fired over their heads, and while they were bewildered I rode away toward the hills."
"And escaped!" Don Carlos exclaimed.
"I am here—that is your answer."
"And why is the governor so particularly bitter against you, señor?" Don Carlos asked. "There are other highwaymen to whom he gives not a thought."
"Ha! I had a personal clash with his excellency. He was driving from San Francisco de Asis to Santa Barbara on official business, with an escort of soldiers about him. They stopped at a brook to refresh themselves, and the soldiers scattered while the governor spoke with his friends. I was hiding in the forest, and suddenly dashed out and at them.
"Instantly I was at the open door of the coach. I presented my pistol at his head and ordered him to hand over his fat purse—which he did. Then I spurred through his soldiers, upsetting several as I did so—"
"And escaped!" Don Carlos cried.