“Ah, I have it,” thought the pursuer. “He doesn’t know I have a horse. He didn’t see him under the shade of the trees. He thinks I am a mile off, and that some innocent cove is following him. I’ll tackle him now.”
Acting promptly on this theory, he galloped up to the side of the buggy supposed to contain Carlos.
The clouds by this time were quite thick, and rendered everything indistinct to the vision. The pursuer hailed his man:
“Hallo, stranger, hold on!”
The stranger looked around, and said:
“What do you want?”
His apparent unconcern startled the murderer, who, with a sudden impulse, leaped from his horse’s back into the buggy. The action was so quick as to meet with no repulse. The lines were jerked from the driver’s hands, his neck was encircled with a strong arm, and he was quickly chocked into submissiveness. The horse was reined in and stood still. The murderer’s horse, a well-trained animal, also halted and stood motionless.
“Now,” said the assailant, “if you’ll give up that piece of paper, I’ll let you go.”
“What do you mean?” gasped the victim, whose throat was firmly held.
“No fooling,” was the reply, given in an angry tone. “Just hand it over, or it will be the worse for you.”