single exception of Mariano, who would not leave his father.
Seeing this, the Turks also scattered, but in this condition they began to waver—all the more that the short twilight of those regions was rapidly deepening into night. They reflected that the guarding of their gate was a prior duty to the hunting down of runaway slaves, and, one by one, dropped off, each supposing that the others would, no doubt, go on, so that the officer of the guard soon found himself alone with only one of his men.
Having observed that two of the fugitives kept together, these Turks resolved to keep them in view. This was not difficult, for they were both young and active, while Francisco was middle-aged and rather heavy.
"Stay a moment, boy," cried the bluff padrone, as they toiled up the rather steep ascent of the valley.
Mariano stopped.
"Come on, father; they are overhauling us."
"I know it, boy," said Francisco, taking Mariano by the shoulders and kissing his forehead. "Go thou; run! It is all over with me. God bless thee, my son."
"Father," said the youth impressively, grasping a mass of timber which he had wrenched from a shop front in passing, "if you love me, keep moving on. I will stop these two, or—Farewell!"
