Presently Wildfire, having eaten his fill of herbage, came and snuffed at the cave’s mouth with a whinny of inquiry.  On hearing Tom’s voice, he stepped lightly in, and after standing for a while beside his master, lay down between him and the opening to the cave, so that Tom was well shielded from the keen night air, and could sleep as snugly as in his bed at home.

Sleep he did, and soundly too; for the day’s ride had wearied him, and he was of the age and temperament when slumber is seldom wooed in vain.  How long he slept he knew not; but he was aroused at length by a movement of Wildfire.  The horse had lifted his head, and was snorting slightly as if in anxiety or fear.

Tom looked out.  The gray of dawn was in the sky, and between him and the light stood a tall, motionless figure, outlined clearly in the cave’s mouth by the coming glow in the east.  It was the figure of a man.  He held in his hand a great horse pistol, and was evidently studying with some curiosity the sleeping figures whose slumbers he had disturbed.

Tom would have sprung to his feet, but the man called out in a clear, sharp voice: 

“Keep where you are, or I fire!”

The hot blood surged into Tom’s cheeks; but for once prudence took the upper hand of valour, and he remained sitting upright behind the still recumbent figure of Wildfire.  He had restrained the horse from rising by the pressure of his hand.  He knew by hearsay that robbers seldom fired upon a good horse if there were a chance of making a capture of so valuable an acquisition.  He might find shelter behind the body of the good steed yet.

“What do you want with me?” he asked, speaking as calmly as he could, but bitterly regretting the carelessness which had omitted to load again his pistol after the brush with the footpads of the previous night.  He had meant to do it before falling asleep, but drowsiness had come quickly upon him, and he was now practically at the mercy of the man who stood in the cave’s mouth, for there was no way of escape save past him.

“I only want your money, my young friend,” answered the man, whose face was becoming more visible every moment in the growing light.  “I doubt not you have a bag of gold pieces somewhere upon your person.  Give them up to me, and you shall go your way in peace.”

The veins on Tom’s forehead swelled with rage and impotent fury.  He set his teeth, and his voice sounded hoarse and choked.

“You will have to take my life first,” he said.

“Nay, but that is folly,” remonstrated the elder man, who had a rather fine face, and much of the air and manner of a gentleman, as Tom was quick to perceive.  “I desire no man’s death; I only ask for his gold, which is, after all, but the dross of the earth; and life for a fine young fellow like yourself is full of joyous promise, even though he carry no purse with him.”