If he failed to do this Felipe would
probably drown. If he succeeded, Caliente and the convent would be close
at hand.
For a moment Felipe hesitated, then suddenly made up his mind. He
wheeled Pepe from the road, and calling upon his last remaining
strength, struck off across the country.
The sound of the river at last came to his ears.
"Now, then, Pepe," he cried.
For the last time the little horse leaped to the sound of his voice.
Still at a gallop, Felipe cut the cinches of the heavy saddle, shook his
feet clear of the stirrups, and let it fall to the ground; his coat,
belt and boots followed. Bareback, with but the headstall and bridle
left upon the pony, he rode at the river.
Before he was ready for it Pepe's hoofs splashed on the banks. Then the
water swirled about his fetlocks; then it wet Felipe's bare ankles. In
another moment Felipe could tell by the pony's motion that his feet had
left the ground and that he was swimming in the middle of the current.
He was carried down the stream more than one hundred yards. Once Pepe's
leg became entangled in a sunken root. Freed from that, his hoofs caught
in grasses and thick weeds. Felipe's knee was cut against a rock; but at
length the pony touched ground. He rose out of the river trembling,
gasping and dripping. Felipe put him at the steep bank. He took it
bravely, scrambled his way--almost on his knees--to the top, then
stumbled badly and fell prone upon the ground.
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