ad evaded the promise not to leave
the spot. That promise Alessandro would not have given. He had something
to do in preparation for this unexpected flight of Ramona. In her
innocence, her absorption in her thoughts of Alessandro and of love, she
had never seemed to consider how she would make this long journey.
As Alessandro had ridden towards Temecula, eighteen days ago, he had
pictured himself riding back on his fleet, strong Benito, and bringing
Antonio's matchless little dun mare for Ramona to ride. Only eighteen
short days ago; and as he was dreaming that very dream, he had looked up
and seen Antonio on the little dun mare, galloping towards him like the
wind, the overridden creature's breath coming from her like pants of
a steam-engine, and her sides dripping blood, where Antonio, who loved
her, had not spared the cruel spurs; and Antonio, seeing him, had
uttered a cry, and flinging himself off, came with a bound to his side,
and with gasps between his words told him. Alessandro could not remember
the words, only that after them he set his teeth, and dropping the
bridle, laid his head down between Benito's ears, and whispered to him;
and Benito never stopped, but galloped on all that day, till he came
into Temecula; and there Alessandro saw the roofless houses, and
the wagons being loaded, and the people running about, the women and
children wailing; and then they showed him the place where his father
lay on the ground, under the tule, and jumping off Benito he let him go,
and that was the last he ever saw of him. Only eighteen days ago! And
now here he was, under the willows,--the same copse where he first
halted, at his first sight of Ramona; and it was night, dark night, and
Ramona had been there, in his arms; she was his; and she was going back
presently to go away with him,--where! He had no home in the wide world
to which to take her,--and this poor beast he had ridden from Temecula,
had it strength enough left to carry her? Alessandro doubted. He had
himself walked more than half the distance, to spare the creature, and
yet there had been good pasture all the way; but the animal had been too
long starved to recover quickly. In the Pachanga canon, where they had
found refuge, the grass was burned up by the sun, and the few horses
taken over there had suffered wretchedly; some had died. But Alessandro,
even while his arms were around Ramona, had revolved in his mind a
project he would not have dared to confide