It was now near sunset; the travellers were still about two leagues from
La Poza, and the desert plains were nearly passed. Some _mezquite_
trees appeared in front thinly covering the calcareous soil, but the
twilight sun began to render less visible the objects here and there
scattered over the plain.
All at once the horse of Don Estevan came to a stand, and showed signs
of affright. The steed of the Senator acted in a similar fashion,
though neither of the two horsemen could perceive the cause of this
strange behaviour.
"It is the body of some dead mule?" suggested the Mexican.
Don Estevan spurred his horse forward, despite the repugnance of the
animal to advance; and a few paces further on, behind a clump of wild
aloe plants, he perceived the body of a horse stretched out upon the
sand. Such a sight in these dry plains is by no means uncommon; and the
travellers would not have given a moment's thought to it, but for the
fact that the horse in question appeared to be saddled and bridled.
This circumstance indicated some extraordinary occurrence.
Cuchillo had meanwhile ridden forward to the spot.
"Ah!" said he, after glancing a moment at the dead horse, "the poor
devil who has ridden him has met with a double accident: he has not only
lost his horse, but also his water-bottle. See!"
The guide pointed to an object lying upon the ground by the shoulder of
the fallen horse, and still attached by a strap to the saddle. It was a
leathern water-bottle apparently broken and empty. In fact, its
position proved that the horse, enfeebled by the heat and thirst, had
fallen suddenly to the earth, and the bottle, hardened by the sun, and
coming in contact with the animal's shoulder, had got crushed either by
the fall, or in the struggle that succeeded it. A large fracture was
visible in the side of the vessel, through which the water had escaped
to the very last drop.
"We are likely enough by and by to stumble upon his owner:" suggested
Cuchillo, while he examined the trappings of the dead horse, to see if
there might be anything worth picking up. "_Por Dios_!" he continued,
"this reminds me that I have the very devil's thirst myself," and as he
said this, he raised his own bottle to his head, and swallowed some
gulps from it.
The tracks of a man upon the sandy surface, indicated that the traveller
had continued his route on foot; but the footmarks showed also, that he
must have tottered rather than walked. They were unequally distant from
each other, and wanted that distinctness of shape, that would have been
exhibited by the footsteps of a man standing properly on his legs.
These points did not escape the keen eyes of Cuchillo, who was one of
those individuals who could read such dumb signs with an unfailing
certainty.
"Beyond a doubt," said he, taking another gulp from his bottle, "the
traveller cannot be far off."
His conjecture proved correct. A few moments after, the body of a man
was seen by the side of the path, lying upon the ground, and perfectly
motionless. As if this individual had intended that his countenance
should be hidden from the eyes of any one passing, a broad palm-leaf hat
covered the whole of his face.
The costume of this traveller in distress, betrayed a certain degree of
poverty. Besides the hat already mentioned, which appeared old and
battered, a rusty-coloured Indian shirt, somewhat torn, and a pair of
pantaloons of nankeen, with common filigree buttons, appeared to be his
only garments. At least they were all that could be noticed in the
obscure twilight.
"Benito," said Don Estevan, calling to one of his servants, "knock off
with the butt of your lance the hat that covers this man's face--perhaps
he is only asleep?"
Benito obeyed the order, and tossed aside the hat without dismounting;
but the man stretched on the ground did not appear to know what had been
done--at least he made not the slightest movement.
When the hat was removed, however, the darkness, which had suddenly
increased, rendered it impossible to distinguish his features.
"Although it is not exactly your speciality, Senor Cuchillo," said Don
Estevan, addressing himself to the outlaw, "if you will do an act of
humanity in trying to save the life of this poor devil, you shall have
half an ounce of gold if you succeed."
"Cospita! Senor Don Estevan," cried Cuchillo, "you surely mistake my
character. I am the most humane of mortals--that is," continued he in
an undertone, "when it is my interest to be so. You may ride forward
then; and it will not be my fault, if I don't bring this poor fellow
safe to our halting-place at La Poza."
In saying these words Cuchillo dismounted, and laying his hands upon the
neck of his horse, cried out:
"Now, good Tordilla, don't budge an inch from this spot till I call for
you."
The animal, pawing the sand, and champing his bit, appeared to
comprehend the words of his master, and remained in the place where he
had been left.
"Shall we leave one of the servants to assist you?" inquired the
Senator, as they were riding off.
"No, thank you, Senor Don Vicente," responded Cuchillo, fearing that if
any one was left he might expect some share in the promised _demi-onza_;
"it will not be necessary."
And the cavalcade riding off, left the outlaw alone with the recumbent
body.