As I rode off from the mountain foot, the white peak glistened at a distance of thirty miles. There was not a hillock between: not a brake or bush, excepting the low shrubs of the artemisia. It was not yet noon. Could I reach the snowy mountain before sunset? If so, I trusted in being able to follow our old trail to the mine. Thence, I might keep on to the Del Norte, by striking a branch of the Paloma or some other lateral stream. Such were my plans, undefined as I rode forth. I knew that I should be pursued almost to the gates of El Paso; and, when I had ridden forward about a mile, a glance to the rear showed me that the Indians had just reached the plain, and were striking out after me. It was no longer a question of speed. I knew that I had the heels of their whole cavalcade. Did my horse possess the "bottom"? I knew the tireless, wiry nature of the Spanish mustang; and their animals were of that race. I knew they could gallop for a long day without breaking down, and this led me to fear for the result. Speed was nothing now, and I made no attempt to keep it up. I was determined to economise the strength of my steed. I could not be overtaken so long as he lasted; and I galloped slowly forward, watching the movements of my pursuers, and keeping a regular distance ahead of them. At times I dismounted to relieve my horse, and ran alongside of him. My dog followed, occasionally looking up in my face, and seemingly conscious why I was making such a hurried journey. During all the day I was never out of sight of the Indians; in fact, I could have distinguished their arms and counted their numbers at any time. There were in all about a score of horsemen. The stragglers had gone back, and only the well-mounted men now continued the pursuit. As I neared the foot of the snowy peak, I remembered there was water at our old camping-ground in the pass; and I pushed my horse faster, in order to gain time to refresh both him and myself. I intended to make a short halt, and allow the noble brute to breathe himself and snatch a bite of the bunch-grass that grew around the spring. There was nothing to fear so long as his strength held out, and I knew that this was the plan to sustain it. It was near sundown as I entered the defile. Before riding in among the rocks I looked back. During the last hour I had gained upon my pursuers. They were still at least three miles out upon the plain, and I saw that they were toiling on wearily.