when we came to a sudden stop before what seemed a deserted jacal.
The Mexicans mumbled something to each other over some disappointment,
when the driver said to me:--

"'Here's where we stay all night. This is the hacienda.' They both got
out and insisted on my getting out, but I refused to do so. I reached
down and picked up my little grip and was in the act of opening it,
when one of them grabbed my arm and jerked me out of the seat to the
ground. I realized then for the first time that I was in for it in
earnest. I never knew before that I could put up such a fine defense,
for inside a minute I had them both blinded in their own blood. I
gathered up rocks and had them flying when I heard a clatter of hoofs
coming down the arroyo like a squadron of cavalry. They were so close
on to me that I took to the brush, without hat, coat, or pistol. Men
that pack a gun all their lives never have it when they need it; that
was exactly my fix. Darkness was in my favor, but I had no more idea
where I was or which way I was going than a baby. One thing sure, I
was trying to get away from there as fast as I could. The night was
terribly dark, and about ten o'clock it began to rain a deluge. I kept
going all night, but must have been circling.

"Towards morning I came to an arroyo which was running full of water.
My idea was to get that between me and the scene of my trouble, so
I took off my boots to wade it. When about one third way across, I
either stepped off a bluff bank or into a well, for I went under and
dropped the boots. When I came to the surface I made a few strokes
swimming and landed in a clump of mesquite brush, to which I clung,
got on my feet, and waded out to the opposite bank more scared than
hurt. Right there I lay until daybreak.

"The thing that I remember best now was the peculiar odor of the wet
mole-skin. If there had been a strolling artist about looking for
a picture of Despair, I certainly would have filled the bill. The
sleeves were torn out of my shirt, and my face and arms were scratched
and bleeding from the thorns of the mesquite. No one who could have
seen me then would ever have dreamed that I was a walking depositary
of 'Other People's Money.' When it got good daylight I started out
and kept the shelter of the brush to hide me. After nearly an hour's
travel, I came out on a divide, and about a mile off I saw what looked
like a jacal. Directly I noticed a smoke arise, and I knew then it was
a ha