He stopped soon at a brook--they seemed to occur every mile--and bathed with cold water the red streaks his spurs had made on either side of his horse.

Again he spoke soothing words and regretted the necessity that had caused him to make such wounds, slight though they were.
He also bathed his own face and hands and, as it was now about noon, ate of the cold ham and bread that he carried in his knapsack, meanwhile keeping constant watch on the road over which he had come.

But he did not believe that the men would pursue, and he saw no sign of them.
Mounting again he rode forward.
The remainder of the afternoon went by without interruption.

He passed three or four people, but they were obviously natives of that region, and they asked him only innocent questions.

The wintry day was short, and the twilight was soon at hand.