He looked past me, but the narrow road was blocked with men.

I drew near, but he did not wait for me.

Once he put his hand on the hilt of the sword, then suddenly he wheeled his horse round and fled down the street of Xaca.
De Garcia fled, and I followed after him, running fast and low like a hound.

At first he gained on me, but soon the road grew rough, and he could not gallop over it.

We were clear of the town now, or rather of its ruins, and travelling along a little path which the Indians used to bring down snow from Xaca in the hot weather.