SEVERAL days afterward, just at dawn, El Mojoso was returning from Cordova to his tavern, when, at a turn in the road, he came upon a small cavalcade made up of six men—five of whom were soldiers, and the other, an elegantly dressed young man.

El Mojoso, who had little liking for evil encounters, pricked up his beast in order to get into the paths ahead of the group, but the chief, who wore the insignia of a sergeant, when he noticed the innkeeper’s intention, shouted to him:

“Hey, my good man, wait a moment!”

El Mojoso stopped his donkey.

“What do you want?” he asked ill-humouredly.

“We’ve got something to say to you.”

“Well, I can’t lose anything by listening to it.”

“You are the owner of the Cross-roads Store, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir: what else do you want?”

“Why, just don’t go so fast, friend, we feel like going along with you.”

“Are you going to Pozo Blanco?”

“No, sir.”

“To Obejo, perhaps?”

“No. We’re going to the Store.”

“To the Store!” exclaimed El Mojoso, overcome with[96] astonishment. “Whom are you looking for in my house?”

“We’re looking for the Marquesito.”

“The Marquesito? What Marquesito?”

“Don’t you know him?”

“Upon my word I do not! I hope to die if I’m not telling you the truth.”

“Well, it seems that your daughter knows him very well,” replied the soldier meaningly.

El Mojoso’s face darkened, not that it had ever been exactly light, and looking back at the sergeant, he murmured in a dull voice:

“You’ve either said too much or too little.”

“I’ve said all that was necessary,” answered the soldier gruffly.

El Mojoso fell silent and urged on his donkey, while the soldiers and the unknown young gentleman followed him.

The sun came out from behind the mountain; in the distance they could see a series of low-lying hills and the Cross-roads Store in its little green clearing near the ravine.

When they reached the Store, El Mojoso dismounted from his donkey and began to pound furiously upon the door. He beat frantically with hands and feet.

“Open! Open!” he shouted impatiently.

“Who is it?” came from within.

“Me,” and El Mojoso ripped out a string of angry oaths.

A lock screeched, the door opened, and La Temeraria appeared half-dressed on the threshold.

“Why didn’t you open sooner?” El Mojoso vociferated.[97]

“What’s the matter?” she asked as she drew a short skirt over head and fastened it rapidly about her waist.

“A whole lot’s the matter. Are there any travellers in the house?”

“The young man who was here a few days ago passed the night here.”

The unknown gentleman and the chief of the soldiers exchanged a look of understanding. El Mojoso entered his house, and La Temeraria followed behind him.

“Go and see if there is a horse in the stable,” said the sergeant to one of his men, “and if there is, bring it here.”

The soldier dismounted, went into the stable, and returned after a little, leading a horse by the bridle.

La Temeraria, who had heard the noise, intercepted the soldier.

“Where are you taking that horse?” she asked.

“The sergeant ordered me to bring him out.”

“What for?”

“So the man who is here can’t escape.”

“What has the young man done?” asked La Temeraria, looking contemptuously at the soldier.

“He killed a man in Cordova about a month ago.”

At this moment, the innkeeper, who had been inside the house, returned shouting to the vestibule.

“Where is Fuensanta?” he asked his wife.

“She must be in her room.”

“She isn’t there.”

“Not there?”

“No. I just looked.”

El Mojoso and La Temeraria looked at each other furiously and understandingly.[98]

Meanwhile the sergeant, followed by one of his soldiers, went up the stairs to the garret. When the fugitive heard the noise their boots and spurs made, he must have realized his danger, for they heard the thud of a body as he threw himself against the door, then the turning of a key in the lock, and then a murmur of voices.

The sergeant drew his sword, went up to the door behind which he had heard the voices, and knocked with the hilt of his weapon.

“Open in the name of the law!” he shouted in a thundrous voice.

“Wait a moment, I’m dressing,” came the answer from within.

After a minute had elapsed, the sergeant exclaimed impatiently:

“Come, come! Open the door!”

“Wait just a second.”

“I won’t wait a minute longer. Open: I promise not to hurt you.”

“Words are air, and the wind carries them all away,” replied the fugitive ironically.

“Will you open, or will you not?”

“I will not; and he who contradicts me is in danger of his life. You’ll have to kill me here.”

At the risk of breaking his neck, the sergeant ran down the stairs three steps at a time, and addressing his soldiers, said:

“Boys, come upstairs with your guns. We’ve got to break down the door. One of you stay here on guard, and if any one tries to escape, fire on him.”

Two of the men dismounted rapidly, crossed the vestibule, and, preceded by the sergeant, rushed headlong[99] upstairs, reached the garret, and began to beat upon the door with the butts of their heavy guns.

“Surrender!” shouted the sergeant again and again.

No one answered.

“Quick now! Throw down the door.”

The door was new and did not yield to the first blows, but little by little the panels gave way, and at last, a formidable blow with the butt broke the lock....

The soldiers entered:—stretched upon the floor lay a half-dressed woman. The window was open.

“The scoundrel escaped through that,” said one of the men.

“My God! We can’t let him escape,” shouted the sergeant, and sticking his head through the window, he saw a man running across a field half hidden among the olive trees. Without making sure whether it was the man they were after or not, he drew a pistol from his belt and fired.

“No—he’s gone. We’ve got to catch him.”

They all left the room; there came a devilish noise of boots and spurs on the stairs, and they crossed the vestibule.

“To your horses,” said the sergeant.

The order was obeyed instantly.

“You, Aragonés, and you, Segura, get behind that hay-stack,” and the chief indicated a great pile of black straw. “You two, ride around that field, and this gentleman and I will go and look for the Marquesito face to face.”

The two pairs of troopers took their appointed places, and the sergeant and the unknown gentleman advanced through the middle of the olive orchard.

Aragonés and Segura were the first to see the fugi[100]tive, who was running along hiding behind the olive trees, with a gun in his hand. The two soldiers cocked their guns and advanced cautiously; but the youth saw them, stopped and waited for them, kneeling upon one knee. The soldiers attempted to make a detour in order to get near their game,............