This man, whose every
wandering footstep had been faithfully traced through Mama Cachama's
marvellous clairvoyant gift, was a remorseless tyrant in his petty way,
so curiously constituted that his one idea of pleasure appeared to be
the making miserable the lives of all about him, even to going out of
his way to do so, to such extent, indeed, that men had been heard to say
bitterly that, as in the case of some noxious animal or reptile, the
world would be the better for his death. The young Englishman could
recall without effort many an occasion when he had been so harassed and
worried, and his existence so embittered by the impish spite of this
same Butler that even he, gentle and kindly as was his disposition in
general, believed he could have contemplated the demise of the other
with a feeling not far removed from equanimity. Yet, now that the man
was in actual peril, all that was forgotten, every generous instinct in
the lad sprang at once to the surface, his one idea was to hurry to the
rescue, and he cried eagerly:

"Tell me exactly where to find him and I will go at once and bring him
in."

"Wait, _muchacho_, wait!" exclaimed Cachama impatiently. "Let me follow
him first as far as I may, lest I lose him, for now his way is growing
erratic, his mind and body are becoming numb with the misery of his
plight, and he no longer has any clear knowledge of anything, the one
conviction which haunts him being that he must press onward anywhere--no
matter where--otherwise his pursuers will overtake him and put him to a
terrible death. Ah! now the dawn breaks, and the storm is subsiding;
but the Englishman takes no note of this. He seems quite incapable of
noticing anything now, but runs on aimlessly, panting and gasping, his
breath bursting from his labouring lungs in great sobs, his eyes staring
unseeingly before him, his limbs quivering and staggering beneath him,
his thin clothing clinging in saturated tatters to his body, which is
streaked here and there with blood where the thorns have torn him, as he
burst through them in his headlong flight. Aha! the end must surely now
be drawing near, for see, the foam upon his lips is tinged with blood,
and rapidly grows a deeper crimson; he reels and stumbles as he runs--he
is down--no--yes--he is up again--and staggers onwards for a few yards--
now he is down again, falling with a crash--and, rolling over on his
back with outstretched arms, lies motionless, his eyes close