Now they had reached the fence, and because of the caballero’s whispered threats the _señora_ managed to climb it. They came to where the horses were tethered, and there the caballero commanded silence while he listened again, fearing someone might have found the horses and was waiting to see who would claim them. “That steed will be yours, _señora_,” he said, pointing it out. “I cannot ride,” she moaned. “Then here is where you acquire that accomplishment, _señora_, else here is where you die. It desolates me that there is not a lady’s saddle on the mount, but it was impossible to provide one. However, the night is dark----” “Ride a man’s saddle? Never!” the _señora_ gasped. “Then I am quit of one trouble, and the horse will not be needed, since I mean to carry the _señorita_ on mine.” “Ah, _señor_, for the love of the saints----” “Mount, _señora_! Up, as I aid you! We cannot remain here until dawn!” In imagination she saw him reach toward his belt, and fear gave her strength. Señora Vallejo got into the man’s saddle, and bent forward to grasp the horse’s mane, feeling as much fear for the animal as for the man. “Do not strangle him, _señora_,” the caballero suggested lightly, and sprang into his own saddle, with Señorita Anita before him. The girl had ceased moaning some time before, but the caballero did not remove the scarf. Though he could not see because of the darkness, he sensed that her eyes were flashing angrily and that yet she did not trust him fully, did not believe he was making this rescue in good faith. He urged his horse forward, and bent over to catch the rein of Señora Vallejo’s animal, and so moved away from the fence, guiding his own mount with his knees, holding the girl and leading the steed that the _señora_ clutched violently by the mane, expecting every moment to be hurled to the ground. They made a great circle, getting a butte between themselves and the rancho, and then the caballero urged the animals into a trot. No fear of death could stay Señora Vallejo’s tongue then. Two shrieks came from her throat in quick succession so like Indian wails that the caballero thanked his saints nobody would be attracted by them. But he felt called upon to stop the horses and make a statement. “Another chirp like that, _señora_, and your body is found here in the pasture at daybreak,” he warned. “Clutch the horn of the saddle and leave the animal his hair. Bounce, if you will, but do not scream.” And he started the horses again, and the _señora_ bounced, and though she screamed no more, yet she breathed ladylike imprecations upon the caballero and all horses, no matter of what breed. Faster and faster he urged the steeds, until the _señora_ was in a panic of fear, had given up all hope and expected death momentarily beneath the horse’s hoofs--but clung on, nevertheless.