It was
Joaquin!
When the pursuers reached the trail, it was marked by the abandoned
blanket. A heavy saddle also lay there, cut loose. Joaquin Murieta
was riding away on the wings of the wind, but unwittingly into the
jaws of death. Two or three from the main body took up the trail.
The whole body pushed ahead on the track of the flying bandit--ready
for fight.
With failing energies, Valois directs the unwounded pursuer to
rejoin the column. He sends stern orders to Harris, to spare neither
man nor beast, to follow the trail to the last. Even to the heart
of the gloomy forests, this great human vampire must be hounded on
his lonely ride to death.
In the saddle, held up by his men, Maxime Valois toils slowly towards
Lagunitas. Beside him the wounded scout, pistol in hand, rides as
a body-guard. In charge of growling old Don Miguel, a man leads
him, dismounted, by a lariat. His horse and trappings lie on the
trail, after removing all the arms. He is sullen and silent. His
servant is a mere human animal. Cautiously approaching, the plaza
lies below them. In the square, the horses of the captors can be
seen peacefully grazing. Sentinels are mounted at several places.
Valois at last reenters the old hacienda, wounded, but in pride,
as a conqueror.
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