With a gasp of relief, Myra darted out, negotiated the narrow crevice
which hid the door from view, and found herself in the open--and in
brilliant sunshine. She paused for a moment, to collect herself,
fancied she heard a noise behind her, and sped away like a startled doe.

There appeared to be no path, and she ran aimlessly and without the
slightest sense of direction, clambering over rocks and slithering down
slopes, several times narrowly escaping disaster, and once only
escaping from plunging headlong over a precipice by clinging
frantically to a boulder on the very verge. And the boulder, which
must have been balanced like a logan stone, went crashing over the side
of the precipice the moment she had released her hold on it and
recovered her equilibrium.

Although she had, as it were, been courting death, Myra was so
terrified that she could not proceed for several minutes, and she had
to muster up all her courage to negotiate the perilous path. After
that, she advanced with greater caution, and at last reached a little
grassy plateau, a sort of oasis amid the bleak rocks, commanding a
magnificent view of the mountain range and the country.

Far below her, Myra could see a twisted white ribbon--so it looked from
a distance--which she knew must be a road, and on the white ribbon were
ant-like moving objects which she knew must be horses and men--the
civil guard and the military, in all probability, seeking for her and
for "El Diablo Cojuelo."