The cord appeared to hinder his respiration.
It was loosened on the instant—the noose giving way to a Woman’s strength.
“Now, he can breathe more freely. Pardieu! what can have caused it? Lazoed in his saddle and dragged to the earth? That is most probable. But who could have done it? It was a woman’s voice. Surely it was? I could not be mistaken about that.
“And yet there is a man’s hat, and a serapé, not this man’s! Was there another, who has gone away with the woman? Only one horse went off.
“Ah! he is coming to himself! thank Heaven for that! He will be able to explain all. You are recovering, sir?”
“S’ñorita! who are you?” asked Don Miguel Diaz, raising his head, and looking apprehensively around.
“Where is she?” he continued.
“Of whom do you speak? I have seen no one but yourself.”
“Carrambo! that’s queer. Haven’t you met a woman astride a grey horse?”
“I heard a woman’s voice, as I rode up.”