“The young man paused. He had advanced to the edge of the rock. I crawled after him mechanically. The same object arrested our attention at the same moment.
“One of those spirits of darkness which might have inhabited such a spot, appeared suddenly to have acquired a visible form. It was a kind of phantom, with the head and skin of a wolf, but erect upon its legs like a human being. I made the sign of the cross, and murmured a prayer, but the phantom did not stir.
“‘It is the devil,’ I whispered.
“‘It is an Indian,’ replied the young man; ‘there are his companions at some distance.’
“In short, our eyes, well practised in making out objects in the dark, could distinguish about twenty Indians, stretched upon the ground, and who, in truth, had no idea of our vicinity.
“Ah, Señorita!” added the narrator, addressing himself to Doña Rosarita, “it was one of those opportunities fraught with danger, which the poor young man sought with so much avidity; and your heart, like mine, would have been torn at beholding the sad joy which sparkled in his eyes; for the further we travelled in this direction the more his melancholy seemed to increase.
“‘Let us wake our friends,’ I suggested.
“‘No; let me go alone. These two men have done enough for me. It is now my turn to run a risk for them and, if I die, I shall forget—’
“As he spoke these words the young man quitted me, made a détour, and I lost sight of him—without, however, ceasing to behold the frightful apparition which continued immovable in the same spot.
“All at once I saw another dusky shape, which rushed towards the phantom and seized it by the throat. The two forms grappled with one another. The struggle was short and noiseless, and one might have believed them two spirits. I prayed to God in behalf of the poor young man who thus exposed his life with so much indifference and intrepidity. A short time afterwards I saw him return; the blood was flowing over his face from a large wound on his head.