Chapter 3
The ride went on without problems. They had cleared the forest and rode onto the rocky path leading to the river. Diego pulled the reins gently and looked around, still not quite sure of himself. His eyes caught the sight of a little boy who stood a few feet away from him, alertly eyeing the horse and the rider. Diego dismounted and made a few steps toward the boy, holding el Diablo�s reins in his hand. The boy looked to be about six, but he seemed different from all other six-year-olds that Diego had seen.
The long dark hair, the bare torso, the tight animal-skin pants, a large knife that he was holding tightly in his hand � �the boy is an Indian,� Diego realized. He has seen the mission Indians before, but they, too, were different from this one. Diego wondered where this boy came from, and he was about to step further in his direction, when el Diablo pulled back, suddenly, neighing in alarm. Diego turned around, letting go of the reins, and was barely able to dodge the hooves that flew up into the air. Young de la Vega watched in confusion as the stallion rushed away, disappearing into the woods. He wondered what could have frightened the horse. The answer came soon after, as Diego heard a distant rumble, and then, seconds later he felt the ground tremble and give way underneath his feet.
***
Diego managed to grab a hold of a small ledge of the cliff, and he clung to it as the continuous shaking kept sending smaller rocks around him down into the newly formed rift. The shaking finally stopped as abruptly as it began, and Diego slowly started to climb back up. He did not have his riding gloves on, and the sharp rocks cut into his fingers, tearing off the skin, but he bit his lip in stubborn determination, paying no heed to the bloody traces his hands left behind on the rocks.
He had never experienced an earthquake before, even though he heard people talk about it, and now his whole body was shaking from the experience. Suddenly he remembered something and looked to where he first saw the Indian boy. The latter was no longer there. The zigzagged rift formed by the earthquake stretched all the way across the rocky surface straight to where the little Indian had stood. Diego walked slowly to that place and leaned carefully over the edge. Just as he had feared, the child had fallen into the crevice, and now lay helplessly on a small ledge formed in the sharp slope of the split rock several feet from the top.
He needed a rope, but where could he get it from? Diego looked around helplessly, until an idea occurred to him, and he began hurriedly untying his banda. He took it off, fastened one end of it tightly to a rock on the edge of the rift, and dropped the other end down. A shout of desperation escaped his lips � the banda was too short � about a foot too short. Diego looked down at the Indian boy again, and sighed to himself, �Well, long enough or not, it will have to do.� And he began his dangerous descent, praying for the banda to hold.
***
As he reached the end of it, Diego let go of the banda, landing softly onto the ledge next to the little boy. He remained still for a few seconds, hesitant to move, awaiting fearfully for the ground to give way again. But nothing seemed to shake anymore, and, except for the loud beating in his chest and temples, everything was quiet. Diego bent over the Indian slowly and said comfortingly and perhaps more for himself than for the child: �Do not worry, little one. Everything will be okay.�
The Indian stared at him motionless and wide-eyed. He could not understand the meaning of Diego�s words, but the soft smile on the young Californiano�s lips must have made his meaning clear to him, and the little Indian smiled back timidly at the white boy bending over him. Diego, equally reassured by the returned smile, lifted the kid gently off the ground. A scream of pain that escaped the boy�s lips made the young de la Vega stop abruptly. The Indian child pointed at his bloodied right arm and said something in the language Diego could not understand. But the meaning was clear � the little boy�s arm was badly injured, probably even broken. Diego took him carefully by the waist, trying not to touch his arm or his bruised back too much and lifted the kid back up, signing for him to hold on. The Indian embraced Diego�s neck with his good arm, and they began the climb.
The young Californiano found that task to be much harder than the descent. The Indian boy was nearly strangling him with his arm, and the extra weight on Diego�s back forced him to double his efforts, tiring him out completely midway through the ascent. Soon all he could do was hang helplessly in midair, unable to move another inch. A slight neighing caught his attention, causing him to look up. A spark of hope flashed in his eyes, as he saw el Diablo�s muzzle above the edge of the rift. Diego called out to the animal in a voice hoarse from the pressure on his throat: �Pull us out, boy.� El Diablo hesitated for a moment, then bent his head in acquiescence and grabbed the banda with his teeth, slowly backing away from the edge. Several nerve-racking minutes later, the two boys lay on the firm ground completely exhausted.