Agostino sat on the front seat of the chariot, with his navaja open and lying beside him, watching the road and the fields all about, with the keen, practised eye of a man of his lawless profession.  All was still.  No sound or movement any where, save among the crows.  In spite of his iron will and constitution he began to feel an insidious drowsiness creeping over him, which he did not find it easy to shake off; several times his eyelids closed, and he lifted them resolutely, only to have them fall again in another instant.  In fact he was just dropping into a doze, when he felt, as in a dream, a hot breath on his face, and suddenly waked to see two gleaming eyeballs close to his.  With a movement more rapid than thought itself, he seized the wolf by the throat with his left hand, and picking up his navaja with the other, plunged it up to the hilt into the animal’s breast.  It must have gone through the heart, for he dropped down dead in the road, without a struggle.

Although he had gained the victory so easily over his fierce assailant, Agostino concluded that this was not a good place for them to tarry in, and called to Chiquita, who jumped up instantly, wide awake, and manifested no alarm at sight of the dead wolf lying beside the chariot.

“We had better move on,” said he, “that carcass of the horse there draws the wolves; they are often mad with hunger in the winter time you know, and especially when there is snow on the ground.  I could easily kill a pretty good number of them, but they might come down upon us by scores, and if I should happen to fall asleep again it would not be pleasant to wake up and find myself in the stomach of one of those confounded brutes.  When I was disposed of they would make only a mouthful of you, little one!  So come along, we must scamper off as fast as ever we can.  That fellow there was only the advance guard, the others will not be far behind him—­this carcass will keep them busy for a while, and give us time to get the start of them.  You can walk now, Chiquita, can’t you?”

“Yes, indeed,” she replied cheerily, “that little nap has done me so much good.  Poor Agostino! you shall not have to carry me again, like a great clumsy parcel.  And Agostino,” she added with a fierce energy, “when my feet refuse to walk or run in your service you must just cut my throat with your big knife there, and throw me into the next ditch.  I will thank you for it, Agostino, for I could not bear to have your precious life in danger for the sake of poor, miserable little me.”  Thereupon this strange pair, both very fleet of foot, set off running, side by side, the brigand holding Chiquita by the hand, so as to give her all the aid and support he could, and they quickly passed out of sight.  No sooner had they departed than the crows came swooping down from their perch in the nearest tree, and fell to fiercely upon their horrible feast, in which they were almost directly joined by several