They dropped out of the window and stole to the corral where the riding
horses were kept. It was surrounded by a high wall, and the gate was
barred with iron; but they managed to remove the bars without noise,
saddled fresh horses and led them forth and onward for a half mile, then
mounted and were off like the wind.

They knew the country down the coast on the beaten road, but they dared
not follow this, and struck inland. The air was now of an agreeable
warmth; the full moon was so low and brilliant that Roldan called out he
could count the bristling hairs on a coyote's back.

In less than two hours they were climbing a mountain trail leading
through a dense redwood forest. In these depths the moon's rays were
scattered into mere flecks dropping here and there through the thick
interlacing boughs of the giant trees. Those boughs were a hundred feet
and more above their heads. About them was a dense underforest of young
redwoods, pines, and great ferns; and swarming over all luxuriant and
poisonous creepers.

They were silent for a time. The redwood forests are very quiet and
awesome. At night one hears but the rush of the mountain torrent, the
cry of a panther or a coyote, the low sigh of wind in the treetops.

"Ay, Roldan," exclaimed Adan, suddenly. "Think did we meet a bear?"

"We probably shall," said Roldan, coolly. "These forests have many
'grizzlies,' as the Americans call them."

"But what should we do, Roldan?"