His eyes lighted up with the fire of life. He raised himself on an
elbow, and when the Indian was within a few yards of him, and about to
turn aside to reenter the thicker woods beyond, Pomponio called to him.
His voice was hardly above a whisper, but it was sufficient. The Indian
heard, and, turned quickly. Seeing the form of a man, he started, and
was on the point of springing away into the forest, when Pomponio spoke,
this time in a louder and stronger tone:
"Help me Taxlipu, I - am nearly dead. I am Pomponio."
"Pomponio!" almost shrieked the boy. "It cannot be. I saw Pomponio
carried away and locked up at the presidio, and an Indian told me he had
been chained fast to the wall of his prison cell."
The boy came nearer as he said this, but he held himself ready to flee
at the least movement of the figure lying on the ground. "Surely it is
his spirit," he said to himself, "for it is, indeed, the countenance of
Pomponio."
But the wounded man spoke again: "I am Pomponio. I cut myself loose from
the chains that bound me, and escaped from my prison.
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