ards to the earth.

In that moment I think that my heart broke--at least I know that nothing
has had the power to move me greatly since, though this memory moves me
day by day and hour by hour, till I die and go to seek my son.

'Say, Bernal Diaz,' I cried, with a hoarse laugh, 'did I lie to you
concerning this comrade of yours?'

Then, springing over Otomie's body I left the chamber, followed by
Bernal Diaz and the others.

Without the door I turned to the left towards the camp. I had not gone
a hundred paces when, in the moonlight, I saw a small troop of horsemen
riding towards us. It was de Garcia and his servants, and they headed
towards the mountain pass on their road to Mexico. I was not too late.

'Halt!' cried Bernal Diaz.

'Who commands me to halt?' said the voice of de Garcia.

'I, your captain,' roared Diaz. 'Halt, you devil, you murderer, or you
shall be cut down.'

I saw him start and turn pale.

'These are strange manners, senor,' he said. 'Of your grace I ask--'

At this moment de Garcia caught sight of me for the first time, for I
had broken from the hold of Diaz who clutched my arm, and was moving
towards him. I said nothing, but there was something in my face which
told him that I knew all, and warned him of his doom. He looked past me,
but the narrow road was blocked with men. I drew near, but he did
not wait for me. Once he put his hand on the hilt of the sword, then
suddenly he wheeled his horse round and fled down the street of Xaca.

De Garcia fled, and I followed after him, running fast and low like a
hound. At first he gained on me, but soon the road grew rough, and he
could not gallop over it. We were clear of the town now, or rather of
its ruins, and travelling along a little path which the Indians used
to bring down snow from Xaca in the hot weather. Perhaps there are some
five miles of this path before the snow line is reached, beyond which no
Indian dared to set his foot, for the ground above was holy. Along this
path he went, and I was content to see it, for I knew well that the
traveller cannot leave it, since on either side lie water-courses and
cliffs. Mile after mile de Garcia followed it, looking now to the left,
now to the right, and now ahead at the great dome of snow crowned with
fire that towered above him. But he never looked behind him; he knew
what was there--death in the shape of a man!

I came on doggedly, saving my strength. I was sure that I must catch him
at