" In a few minutes poor little
Chiquita was sound asleep.
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.
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