A quarter of a mile from where he sat the road dipped into a recess behind a shoulder of the mountain, and for a little space was lost to view. He watched the train until it entered this recess, and then, while waiting for it to reappear, he bowed his head upon his hand. His heart was very full of bitterness. There was but little comfort for him in the fact that the train that he had captured had not been commanded by Pepe in person; for he knew that the precautions taken made the capture, either in the mountains or in Monterey, of the other two trains certain; and not less certain was the capture or the killing of Pepe himself. Certainly Pepe's fortune, probably his life, already was as good as forfeited; and with this forfeiture Pancha's hope of happiness was gone! And the cruel part of it all was that Pancha ever must believe that he, willfully, revengefully, because she had kept back from him her love, had brought upon her this great misery. In the darkness that beset him he saw no way of hopeful light. He had saved his honor, but he had wrecked his heart. A rattle of rifle-shots snapped short his dismal revery. As he sprang to his feet he saw a squad of his own people, a dozen or so, galloping up the road, and a moment later four times as many men came out from behind the shoulder of the mountain in sharp pursuit. The pursued were bent low over the necks of their horses; from the crowd of pursuers there came each instant a puff of smoke followed by the sharp crack of the report; and each instant a horse fell, or ran wildly with empty saddle, as the balls went home. Pedro loosened his revolver in his belt and sprang to his horse. The _barquero_ had become visible again, and was standing beside him; on his face was a malicious, yet not wholly unkindly grin. "Quick!" he said. "Get into the boat. You yet have time." As an officer of the _contraresguardo_ he hated Pedro cordially; but he had no especial wish to see him shot down, now that the smugglers had recaptured the _contrabando_ and the fight was won. But Pedro already was mounted, and his horse was headed not toward the river, but toward his men. The _barquero_ saw his purpose, and seized his bridle with a strong hand. "God! Senor Captain, would you ride straight to your death?" "Let loose, or I shoot!" Like a flash Pedro's revolver was drawn and cocked and within an inch of the _barquero's_ head. "You are a fool, a madman! Go!" And the man staggered aside as the horse, bounding forward, sharp stricken with the spurs, brushed against him, and nearly threw him to the ground. "_Es mi deber!_" "'Tis my duty!" came ringing back through the rush of air as Pedro rode furiously onward; and it seemed to the _barquero_--yet this was so strange a thing that he could not trust his ears--that there was gladness, nay, even triumph, in Pedro's tone. Whether spoken in sorrow or in hope, certain it is that these were the last words which the _capitan_ Pedro spoke on earth.