His horse splashed across the brook and sprang into the mouth of the trail, to half whirl with a snort of fright and start up the side of the rocky hill. Swinging far out to one side and standing in his stirrups, the caballero pulled on the reins and jerked the beast back into the path--and an Indian grasped the bridle. “_Señor!_” he shouted. “Out of my way! The soldiers pursue!” “Swing me up behind you, _señor_. There is a way of escape!” “Haste, then!” The Indian vaulted to the horse’s back; the animal dashed away up the trail. “The soldiers will travel slowly, _señor_, until they are past the old camp,” the Indian shrieked in his ear. “They will fear an ambush because you rode straight up the cañon. Watch to your right for an arroyo--turn into it!” There was scant time for speculation with the troopers at his heels, and the caballero had no reason for believing the Indian was attempting treachery, especially since his pursuers were soldiers. He came to the arroyo and whirled the horse into it, sand and gravel flying in a cloud behind as he rode. Far in the rear there was shouting, and a single shot as some soldier fired his pistol, thinking he saw the quarry. “On, _señor_,” the Indian urged. The horse was having heavy going in the sand with the double burden on its back, but the caballero urged the animal to do its utmost. The arroyo ran into another cañon fringed with stunted trees, and continued into a sort of basin, where there seemed but the one way in or out. It looked like a death trap. The Indian sprang to the ground and ran ahead. He parted a clump of brush, and the caballero saw the mouth of a cave big enough for a horseman to enter. He did not hesitate when his guide motioned that he was to ride inside, but he did not ride in--he dismounted and led the horse, and one hand gripped the butt of his pistol. The Indian closed the brush about the entrance and turned to lead the way, walking a few paces ahead of the caballero, and soon they were in darkness. “Follow closely, _señor_,” he said. “It would not do to have a light here, but the floor is level and safe.” Since he was this far, there was nothing else to be done, so the caballero followed, half expecting to come to combat at any moment, straining his ears for whispers ahead or sounds of the pursuit behind. They reached a large-sized chamber, and the Indian took him by the hand to guide him across it, and on the other side they entered a narrow tunnel, made a turning, and so came to where they could see a streak of light in the distance. “It is safe to stop here, _señor_,” the Indian said. “The soldiers do not know of this cave beneath the hill, and, if they found the entrance, they would fear to enter without torches. At a late hour you can leave safely. Just ahead is a way out, and it is on the other side of the hill.” “So your camp in the cañon is abandoned?” the caballero asked, sitting on a boulder.