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The carriage rolled away and Guest returned from the hedge to the
middle of the road. San Jose lay in the opposite direction from
the disappearing cavalcade; but, on leaving the fonda, he had
determined to lead his inquisitors astray by doubling and making a
circuit of the hostelry through the fields hidden in the tall
grain. This he did, securely passing them within sound of their
voices, and was soon well on his way again. He avoided the
highway, and, striking a trail through the meadows, diverged to the
right, where the low towers and brown walls of a ruined mission
church rose above the plain. This would enable him to escape any
direct pursuit on the high road, besides, from its slight
elevation, giving him a more extended view of the plain. As he
neared it, he was surprised to see that, although it was partly
dismantled, and the roof had fallen in the central aisle, a part of
it was still used as a chapel, and a light was burning behind a
narrow opening, partly window and partly shrine. He was almost
upon it, when the figure of a man who had been kneeling beneath,
with his back towards him, rose, crossed himself devoutly, and
stood upright. Before he could turn, Guest disappeared round the
angle of the wall, and the tall erect figure of the solitary
worshiper passed on without heeding him.
But if Guest had been successful in evading the observation of the
man he had come so suddenly upon, he was utterly unconscious of
another figure that had been tracking HIM for the last ten minutes
through the tall grain, and had even succeeded in gaining the
shadow of the wall behind him; and it was this figure, and not his
own, that eventually attracted the attention of the tall stranger.
The pursuing figure was rapidly approaching the unconscious Guest;
in another moment it would have been upon him, when it was suddenly
seized from behind by the tall devotee. There was a momentary
struggle, and then it freed itself, with the exclamation, "Pereo!"
"Yes--Pereo!" said the old man, panting from his exertions. "And
thou art Miguel. So thou wouldst murder a man for a few pesos!" he
said, pointing to the knife which the desperado had hurriedly hid
in his jacket, "and callest thyself a Californian!"
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