"Give thy horse the reins, and perplex him not, Lorenzo!" he cried, urging the dauntless Fogoso to his rescue; "jerk not, pull not, or thou wilt be in great danger."
But before the secretary could obey the voice of Don Amador, and before the latter could reach him, the hand of Lazaro had grasped the bridle, and turned the animal's head to the bank.
"Suppose thou wert in the midst of a company of fighting spearmen, instead of this spluttering gutter," said the man-at-arms, in his ear, "wouldst thou distract thy beast in this school-boy fashion?"
The contemptuous composure of the soldier did more to restore the spirits of Fabueno, than the counsels of the cavalier; and yielding up the guidance of himself as well as his animal, to Lazaro, he was soon out of danger.
In the meanwhile, Don Amador, in his hurry to give the secretary relief, had taken so little note of his own situation, that when he beheld his ward in safety, he discovered that he was himself even more disagreeably situated. A few yards below him was a cluster of rocks, against which, as he discerned at a glance, it would be fatal to be dashed, but which he saw not how he could avoid, inasmuch as the bank above them was so palisaded by the sharp and jutting boughs of a prostrate tree, that it seemed impossible he could effect a landing there. While balancing in doubt, at a time when doubt, as he well knew, was jeopardy, he heard a voice suddenly crying to him from the bank,
"What ho, señor! holla! 'Ware the rocks, and spur on: your hope is in the tree-top."
While Don Amador instinctively obeyed this command, and urged his steed full towards the threatening branches, he raised his head, and perceived a cavalier on a dun horse riding into the water, above the rocks hard by the tree, as if to convince him of the practicability of the passage, and the shallowness of the water. This unknown auxiliary stretched forth his hand, and doing to Amador the service rendered by Lazaro to the secretary, the neophyte instantly found himself in safety, and ascending the bank of the river. Not till his charge was on dry land, did the stranger relax his hand; and then perhaps the sooner, that Don Amador seized it with a most cordial gripe, and while he held it, said, fervently,--