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Sotavento was completely exhausted by the efforts he had been compelled to make in reaching the islet on which he had so luckily found a refuge. For nearly an hour he lay with his eyes closed and in a half fainting state. When his strength had gradually returned, when his blood began to circulate more freely and his ideas regained their equilibrium, he thought of the horse, which, in his present situation, became the more precious to him, as the animal alone could save him.
The poor brute had halted a few paces from its master with hanging head and piteous look. The Indian rose, picked up a pebble, went to the horse coaxingly, and began vigorously rubbing all parts of its body, after which operation he dried it with a wisp of grass. The horse perceiving the comfort this produced, whinnied with pleasure as it rubbed its intelligent head against the Indian's shoulder, and then began eagerly browsing the grass which grew profusely in this sequestered spot.