ks
of my horse more deeply than ever. Moro seemed to divine my thoughts,
and stretched himself to his utmost. There were no more cattle, not an
obstacle, and his superior speed soon lessened the distance between
himself and the mustang. Ten seconds more would do it.

The ten seconds flew by. I felt myself within shooting distance; I drew
my pistol from its holster.

"_Alto! o yo tiro_" (Halt! or I fire), I cried aloud.

There was no reply: the mustang kept on!

"Halt!" I cried again, unwilling to take the life of a
fellow-creature--"halt! or you are a dead man!"

No reply again!

There were not six yards between myself and the Mexican horseman.
Riding straight behind him, I could have sent a bullet into his back.
Some secret instinct restrained me; it was partly, though not
altogether, a feeling of admiration: there was an indefinable idea in my
mind at the moment. My finger rested on the trigger, and I could not
draw it.

"He must not escape! He is nearing the trees! He must not be allowed
to enter the thicket; I must cripple the horse."

I looked for a place to aim at--his hips were towards me--should I hit
him there he might still get off. Where should I aim?

At this moment the animal wheeled, as if guided by his own impulse--
perhaps by the knees of his rider--and shot off in a new direction. The
object of this manoeuvre was to throw me out of the track. So far it
was successful; but it gave me just the opportunity to aim as I wanted;
as it brought the mustang's side towards me; and levelling my pistol, I
sent a bullet through his kidneys. A single plunge forward was his
last, and both horse and rider came to the ground.

In an instant the latter had disengaged himself from his struggling
steed, and stood upon his feet. Fearing that he might still endeavour
to escape to the cover of the thicket, I spurred forward, pistol in
hand, and pointed the weapon at his head. But he made no attempt either
at further flight or resistance. On the contrary, he stood with folded
arms, fronting the levelled tube, and, looking me full in the face, said
with an air of perfect coolness--

"_No matame, amigo! Soy muger_!" (Do not kill me, friend! I am a
woman!)

CHAPTER FIVE.

MY CAPTIVE.

"_Do not kill me, friend! I am a woman_!"

This declaration scarcely astonished me; I was half prepared for it.
During our wild gallop, I had noticed one or two circumstances which led
me to suspect that t