They fired a
volley at him. One shot only took effect, and even this would not
have been possible save that the spell was not upon him because of
his sleep; but the one shot woke him and, half rising, he staggered
and fell from the mouth of the cave to a ledge of rocks beneath. He
sprang to his feet in a second and ran like a deer towards a tree
where his white mare was fastened. They fired another volley, but,
though the shots flew in every direction, Valerio passed on unharmed;
but just as he was disappearing from view the hechicero raised his
bow and the headless arrow whizzed through space and pierced him
through the heart. They clambered up the cliffs with shouts of
triumph and surrounded him on every side, but poor Valerio had
surrendered to a more powerful enemy than they! Wonderful to relate,
he still breathed, though the wound should have been instantly fatal.
They lifted him from the ground and tied him on his snow-white mare,
his long hair reaching almost to the ground, his handsome face as
pale as death, the blood trickling from his wound; but the mysterious
power that he possessed seemed to keep him alive in spite of his
suffering. Finally one of the hechiceros decided that the spell lay
in the buckskin cord that he wore about his throat--a rough sort of
necklace hung with bears' claws and snake rattles--and that he never
would die until the magic cord was cut. This, after some
consultation, was done.
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