The time had come to die.

"Ha! _Canalla!_" he said.

They made a menacing clamour, "Walk _viejo_, traitor; walk."

"Senorita--I walked." The heartrending effort of the voice, the
trembling of this gray head, the sobs under the words, oppressed our
breast with dismay and dread. Ardently he would have us believe that
at this juncture he was thinking of us only--of us wondering, alone,
ignorant of danger, and hidden blindly under the earth. His purpose was
to provoke the two _Luga-renos_ to shoot, so that we should be warned by
the reports. Besides, an opportunity for escape might yet present itself
in some most unlikely way, perhaps at the very last moment. Had he not
his own life in his own hands? He cared not for it. It was in his power
to end it at any time. And there would be dense thickets on the way;
long grass where one could plunge suddenly--who knows! And overgrown
ravines where one could hide--creep under the bushes--escape--and return
with help.... But when he faced the plains its greatness crushed his
poor strength. The uncovered vastness imprisoned him as effectually as
a wall. He knew himself for what he was: an old man, short of breath,
heavy of foot; nevertheless he walked on hastily, his eyes on the
ground. The footsteps of his captors sounded behind him, and he tried to
edge towards the ravine. When nearly above the opening of the cavern he
would, he thought, swerve inland, and dash off as fast as he was able.
Then they would have to fire at him; we would be sure to hear the shots,
the warning would be clear... and suddenly, looking up, he saw that a
small band of _Lugarenos_, having just ascended the brow of the upland,
were coming to meet him. Now was the time to get shot; he turned
sharply, and began to run over that great plain towards a distant clump
of trees.

Nobody fired at him. He heard only the mingled jeers and shouts of the
two men behind, "Quicker, Castro; quicker!" They followed him, holding
their sides. Those ahead had already spread themselves out over the
plain, yelling to each other, and were converging upon him. That was
the time to stop, and with one blow fall dead at their feet. He doubled
round in front of Manuel, who stood waving his arms and screeching
orders, and ran back towards the ravine. The plain rang with furious
shouts. They rushed at him from every side. He would throw himself over.
It was a race for the precipice. He won it.

I suppose he found it not so easy to d