receive the charge. With the adroitness of a practised matador he flung
his poncho on the horns of the animal, and then both ran in the
direction of the rocks. As they faced towards the hut, however, to the
horror of Don Pablo he saw the Dona Isidora, with Leon and the little
Leona, all outside, and even at some distance from the entrance!
Attracted by the bellowing of the bull and the shouts of the men, they
had rushed out of the hut.

Don Pablo, in wild accents, shouted to them to make for the door; but,
paralysed by terror, they were for some moments unable to move. At
length Dona Isidora, recovering herself, ran for the entrance, pushing
the children before her. But the low doorway was difficult of access;
they were slow in getting under it; and they would have been too late,
as the bull, after shaking off the poncho, had turned and made directly
for the hut.

"O God, preserve her!" cried Don Pablo, as he saw the enraged animal
within a few paces of where his wife had knelt to enter the doorway.
"She is lost! she is lost!"

In fact, the bull was making directly towards her, and it seemed as if
nothing could then have interposed to save her.

At that moment the tramp of a horse in full gallop sounded on their
ears. Don Pablo looked up. A strange horseman was near the spot--an
Indian. Over his head a singular instrument was revolving. There were
three thongs fastened at one end, while at the other end of each was a
ball. These balls were whirling and gyrating in the air. The next
moment both thongs and balls were seen to part from the hands of the
rider, and warp themselves around the legs of the bull. The latter made
an awkward spring forward, and then fell upon the plain, where he lay
kicking and helpless. The horseman uttered a yell of triumph, sprang
from his horse, and running up to the prostrate animal, thrust the blade
of his long machete into its throat. The red stream gushed forth, and
in a few seconds the black monster lay motionless upon the plain.

The new-comer quietly unwound the thongs--the _bolas_--from the legs of
the dead bull, and then addressed himself to our travellers.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE "VAQUERO."

Who was this deliverer? No other than the vaquero--the friend of
Guapo,--who now welcomed Guapo and his companions, telling them in the
polite phraseology of all Spanish-Americans that his _house_ (?) was at
their service. They were welcome to all it contained.

The mac