In twenty minutes after they were mounting the steep slope of the Cerro Ajusco, amid tall forest trees, with no fear of pursuit by the soldiers, than if separated from them by a hundred long leagues. After breasting the mountain for some time, they paused to take breath, Rivas saying-- "Well, _caballeros_, we're on safe ground now, and may rest a bit. It's been a close shave, though; and we may thank our stars there are none in the sky--nor moon. Look yonder! They're at it yet. `_Soto en la puerto--mozo_!' Ha, ha, ha!" He referred to a faint light visible at a long distance below, on the edge of the Pedregal, where they had passed that of a picket fire-camp, which enabled the _monte_ players to make out the markings on their cards. "We may laugh who have won," he added, now seemingly relieved from all apprehension of pursuit. Nevertheless the fugitive party stayed but a short while there; just long enough to recover wind. The point they were making for was still further up the mountain, though none of them could tell where save Rivas himself. He knew the place and paths leading to it, and well; otherwise he could not have followed them, so thick was the darkness. In daylight it would have been difficult enough, yawning chasms to be crossed _barransas_--with cliffs to be climbed, in comparison with which the escarpments of the Pedregal were but as garden walls. In a groping way, hand helping hand, all were at length got up and over, as the tolling of distant church bells, down in the valley below, proclaimed the hour of midnight. Just then Rivas, once more making a stop, plucked a leaf from one of the grass plants growing by, and placing it between his lips gave out a peculiar sound, half screech, half whistle--a signal as the others supposed; being assured it was, by the response soon after reaching their ears. The signal was given again, with some variations; responded to in like manner. Then a further advance up the mountain, and still another halt; this time at hearing the hail: "_Quien viva_!" "_El Capitan_!" called out Rivas in answer, and received for rejoinder first an exclamation of delighted surprise, then words signifying permission to approach and pass. The approach was not so easy, being up a steep incline, almost a cliff. But on reaching its crest they came in sight of the man who had challenged, standing on a ledge of rock. A strange-looking figure he seemed to Kearney and the Texan, wearing a long loose robe, girded at the waist--the garb of a monk, if the dim light was not deceiving them; yet with the air of a soldier, and sentinel-fashion, carrying a gun! He was at "present arms" when they got up opposite; and wondering, but without saying aught, they passed him--their conductor, after a momentary pause and a muttered word to him, leading on as before. Another ascent, this time short, but still almost precipitous, and this climbing came to an end. CHAPTER FORTY. A FAITHFUL STEWARD.