Now I used the macho's body as a shield against the
furious onslaught of his people, who attacked me with rocks, clubs,
and anything they could lay hands to. I thought, and I never ceased
thinking and planning for one moment, that the affair looked very
serious for me, when I saw the cacique approach with my pistol in
hand, exclaiming, "Now, gringo, thou shalt die, on the altar of the
god, at the sacred shrine of Aztlan, I shall lay thy quivering
heart!" In vain I looked for help from my companion, who had sought
safety in flight. Something had to be done and that quickly. Surely I
had one trusty friend, true as steel, who would not forsake me in the
extremity of my peril. I bethought me of my little "American bulldog"
which I had picked up in the cars in Kansas, and which had ever since
followed me faithfully. "Sic-semper-Cerberus-Sic!" My right hand
stole to my hip, a short sharp bark, and the treacherous cacique fell
over with a crimson stain on his forehead. At the same moment a
weird, uncanny yelp pierced the night, and a tremendous shaggy
phantom cloud obscured the slender sickle of the moon. Terrified, the
Indians screamed "El Perro! El Perro de la Malinche!" and shrilly the
voices of frightened squaws took up the refrain, "Perro! Perro!
Gringo Perro!"
When I staggered to my feet, I was alone, sorely bruised and wounded,
but master of the field.
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