On seeing the horsemen, Don Rafael suddenly wheeled round and galloped back as he had come. His hope lay in being able to distance his pursuers, and afterwards find a temporary refuge in the thick forest he had just been traversing, and through which ran the road to Huajapam. With this purpose in view, he returned along the route at full gallop.
When he deemed himself at a sufficient distance in advance of his pursuers, he wheeled suddenly from the road and headed his steed into the thick underwood, through which he spurred onward, until his passage was fairly barred up by an impenetrable network of vines and bushes. Here he halted; and, dismounting, led his horse to a tree. He then commenced groping about, to find some spot where he might in safety obtain a few hours of repose, after the fatigues he had encountered during the day.
A few paces further on he perceived a cedrela tree of gigantic dimensions, and so thickly loaded with leaves that it seemed to promise a secure hiding-place among its branches. Still apprehensive that his pursuers might discover his track, Don Rafael resolved to climb the cedrela, whose dark foliage would screen him from the sharpest eyes. On approaching the tree, he perceived by the vast circumference of its trunk that he could not climb up by embracing it. Neither could he reach to even the lowest of its limbs. A means, however, presented itself of getting over the difficulty.
An enormous lliana, stretching from among the top branches, reached the ground in a diagonal direction; and up this Don Rafael was enabled to make his ascent.
Placing his body between two large boughs, he disposed himself, as best he could, to pass the remainder of the night, leaving it for the day to bring him to some further determination.
He commenced reflecting upon the pursuit. He was in hopes that his pursuers, having lost his track, might separate into small parties of two or three, in order the more thoroughly to scour the woods. In this case, he might be able to defeat the whole party, taking them in detail, and favoured by his own superior courage and strength, in which he felt the most perfect confidence.
The night had already advanced, and the moon from the high vault of the starry heavens poured down her floods of light over the spray of the forest. A few feeble raylets, penetrating through the thick masses of foliage, reached the retreat where Don Rafael had hidden himself.
He remained for some moments listening attentively. He could hear nothing—at least no sound that betokened the presence of human beings. The breeze sighing among the leaves, the distant howl of the coyote, the sweet note of the mimic night-thrush, or perchance the rustling caused by the iguana as it scampered over the dead leaves, were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the night.
The fresh balmy air that he was breathing, the shadow of night that enwrapped him, the imposing tranquillity that reigned around, all conspired to beget the desire for repose. He felt his eyelids gradually grow heavier and heavier; and after a while an invincible torpor seized upon his whole frame.
Without being in any great degree uneasy about his situation, Don Rafael nevertheless felt the necessity of keeping awake as long as he might be able. With this intent he struggled for a time against sleep, but in vain. Seeing that it was about to overpower him, he unwound the sash from his waist, and with this attached himself firmly between the branches. Having thus provided against the danger of a fall, he surrendered himself the moment after to a profound and silent slumber.