The sun had risen a long time, and the heat was beginning to grow intolerable. The Indian, who was in no hurry, resolved to let the great heat pass and not start till toward evening; moreover, the violent exercise he had taken in seeking a passage had greatly fatigued him, and he needed rest. When he rubbed down his horse, he had unbuckled the girths and removed the saddle, which he threw on the grass without looking at it. On his return, at the moment when he sought a convenient spot for sleeping, his eyes fell accidentally on this saddle, and he noticed an _alforja_, or a species of double canvas pocket, which every Mexican carries with him when travelling, which he had not observed, for the simple reason that these bags, fastened behind the saddle, were concealed by a blanket and sheepskin, which almost entirely covered them. The poor soldier whom the Indian had killed carried in these alforjas all his wretched property, flint and steel, and tobacco, precious things for the fugitive; but what caused him greater pleasure still, there was nearly a yard of _tasajo_, meat dried in the sun, as well as a dozen biscuits, and a large lump of goat's cheese. All this was wet though, it is true; but what did the Indian care for this, when he was half dead of hunger. Instead of sleeping, as he had originally intended, Sotavento spread out all the provisions on the ground to let them dry in the sun, which was effected in less than ten minutes, collected dry leaves, lit a fire, roasted his tasajo, and began eating as Indians eat when they have long gone without food, that is to say, with no thought of the morrow. He devoured all his provisions at one meal; then, his hunger appeased, he filled his pipe, and began smoking with the beatitude and satisfaction of a man whose life has hung by a thread, and who has only been saved by a miracle. Sotavento thus spent the greater part of the day in a gentle _far niente_, smoking, sleeping, and ruminating plans of vengeance, for he constantly thought of the two hapless prisoners he had left at the teocali, whom he was most anxious to rejoin now that he had escaped such imminent danger. When the sun began to elongate enormously the shadows of the trees, and its oblique beams had lost nearly all their heat, the Indian considered it time to start; horse and rider, well fed and rested, were in a condition to ride a long distance. Sotavento got up, saddled his horse, and leading it by the bridle to save it unnecessary fatigue, waded through the ford; when he reached the other bank, he took a parting glance of gratitude at this isle, which had offered him such pleasant shelter. Then he mounted, and whispering to his horse the word "Santiago," he set out, as if borne on the wings of the wind, in the direction of the desert.