It was three o’clock in the morning when they reached San Polycarpio. Felizardo drew a deep breath, possibly to choke back a sob, as he looked round in the moonlight. He had not been there for thirty-six years, not since he had fled to the bush, carrying Dolores Lasara in his arms, after having slain Father Pablo, the parish priest and ladrone. It still looked the same. It had been just such another moonlight night on that occasion. There seemed to be no new buildings; no more bush had been cleared. The village was sleeping as it had slept that night, whilst he was doing the deed which was to make him an outlaw. Nothing had changed in San Polycarpio—only he was an old man, and Dolores his wife was dead. That was all.
They had brought spades and pickaxes to dig a grave, but when they arrived at the burial-ground, lo, there was one ready, on a rise, under a big tree, with its foot towards Felizardo’s own mountains, behind which the sun would rise.
A tall man and a short, stout priest were standing near the grave, whilst in the background were some fifteen native soldiers, who saluted as the body went by.
Felizardo dismounted and came forward. The priest began to tremble, having heard of what had happened to a certain predecessor of his when Felizardo was last in San Polycarpio; but Basil Hayle held out his hand, and he and the outlaw actually met at last, yet, even now, there was no word spoken, though they walked side by side to the church.
Then Basil fell behind and whispered to Father Doyle: “I made the parish priest come out—he was half-dead with fear—because I was not sure if you would be here.”
Father Doyle nodded. “It was his duty in any case. This is his parish, not mine.”
So they buried Dolores, the wife of Felizardo, in the graveyard of San Polycarpio, with her face towards the mountains where her womanhood had been passed. Dawn was just breaking when they had finished, and then they all drew back, and left the old chief kneeling beside the grave, where he remained until the first ray of sunlight came from behind the mountains and struck the newly-turned earth, when he got up and came towards them, and they saw that there was a look of peace on his face.
Then he shook hands with Father Doyle and with Don Juan and with Basil Hayle, and disappeared with his men into the bush, taking a circuitous route back to the mountains, which was fortunate, for Captain Bush, having heard a rumour of his going to San Polycarpio, and being still sore over his own defeat, had arranged an ambush for him, of which Felizardo heard in due course, and did not forget.