But as he struck the ground there was a sharp, lashing report, far different from the dull boom of a musket, and the great animal suddenly ploughed forward on his head.
So violent was his plunge, as he was stricken in mid-charge, that his neck was broken, and, after his crashing fall, he lay quite still.
The young Spaniard, Luiz, sprang to his feet unharmed, and he was confronted by a figure that startled him, the figure of a very tall and powerful youth, clad wholly in deerskin, leaning on a long, slender barreled Kentucky rifle, and looking at him contemplatively.

So sudden was his appearance and so fixed his gaze that Luiz, although joyful over his escape from death, was startled and awed.

His adventure of a few nights before when he was seized, bound, and gagged by unseen but powerful hands had left him shaken, and now his brain was whirling.
The young Spaniard stared at the figure, which neither moved nor spoke, but which returned his gaze with a fixed look.

Was it a spirit, or was it really one of the Americans?
But whatever it was, it had, beyond a doubt, saved his life, and deep down in his Spanish heart he was not ungrateful.
"Thanks, Senor!" he stammered.

"Your shot--it came just in time!" The apparition spoke, but only a few words.
"We are your friends, not your enemies, don't forget," it said, and the startled Luiz rubbed his eyes.