The other three riders were a half mile ahead and he had no idea of joining them on the trail. It occurred to him there was a possible chance of taking a short cut over the point of the mesa and beating them to the home ranch. There was an even chance that the rougher trail would offer difficulties in the dark, but that was up to the sorrel and was worth the trial.
The bronco took the mesa walls like a cat, climbed and staggered up, slid and tumbled down and crossed the level intervening space to the corral as the first sound of the others came beating across the sands.
A dark little figure arose by the corral bars and reached for the horse as he slipped from the saddle.
“Quickly, Tulita!” he said, stripping saddle and bridle from its back, “one instant only to make ourselves as still as shadows under the walls of the house.”
Fast as he ran, she kept pace with him to the corridor where Isidro waited.
“All is well,” he said briefly to the old man. “Clodomiro comes safe with the señora, and the man who would steal her was shot and lost his gun. All has gone very well.”
“Thanks to God!” said the old Indian. “The stealing of women has ever been a danger near, but luck comes well to you, señor, and it is good to be under the protection of you.”
“Open the door and show a light of welcome,” said Kit. “Call your wife and let all be as planned by us. I will be in the shadows, and a good gun for safety of the woman if needed, but all will work well, as you will see.”
The three riders came up to the portal before dismounting, and Valencia went forward, while Isidro held high a blazing torch, and Clodomiro dismounted quickly, and offered help to the woman.
“My grandmother has all for your comfort, señora,” he said, “will it please you to descend?”