An hour later it was time for the alcalde to take the ransom money to the kidnappers. Sergeant Mendoza and another lancer helped secure the saddlebags filled with a little over ten thousand pesos to his horse.

"Alcalde, please let a squad of lancers go with you..."

"No, sergeant," DeSoto said loudly, making sure to convey his bravery to the anxious townspeople watching. "I cannot jeopardize the lives of the children."

"But what about Zorro?" someone shouted. "He is not here!"

"He is a coward, my friends," the alcalde said as if the thought made him sad. "I have little hope he will show himself. However, I will take the money we have and try to negotiate with the kidnappers."

Amid quiet exclamations of good luck and thanks for his bravery, the alcalde rode out of town. It was no secret where the children were; the padre often took them on picnics and usually drove toward the hills, finding a shady tree in a valley where they could play. Today was one such day, when he wanted them to play and be tired out before the wedding ceremony, and so create no disturbances while the adults were otherwise occupied.

No one noticed Diego was absent when the alcalde rode away- hardly anyone had noticed he was even in town. Only Felipe knew anything about what he was doing or where he was. He had ridden out long before to find where the children were and to watch what happened, with the hopes of seeing a way to save the children without dying.

It was hot in the glaring sun, but Diego lay unmoving on the top of a hill in the coarse, stiff grass, watching the path below for the alcalde. Not a quarter mile further on was the little valley were three men, their faces covered with dusty bandannas, held eight little children, a young woman who often helped at the mission, and the padre, bound and cowering in a wagon, at gunpoint. A fourth man was hiding below him, nearer the path, watching in the same direction he was.

It was nearly two by the sun when two of the three men guarding the children left them to join their companion below Diego. Shortly afterwards, the don saw the alcalde on his white Andalusian approaching slowly. He wore no obvious weapons, and he held one hand up in a gesture of peace.

"Do you have the money?!" one of them shouted as the alcalde neared.

"I have nearly eleven thousand pesos, amigos..."

"We want twenty thousand!" another snarled loudly. "And Zorro!"

"I know," DeSoto said as he reined his horse to a stop. "Zorro I cannot give you, though God knows I wish I could. However, I can offer you the six thousand peso reward for him instead."

"Did you bring it?"

"No, but I can get it."

"That isn't what we asked for!" the third man shouted angrily. He stood suddenly and aimed his pistol at the alcalde. "We want more money! Now! We will settle for no less!"

"Señor," the alcalde replied, sounding desperate, "we do not have that much money in the bank! Ours is not a rich pueblo!"

"Too bad," the first growled. "Go back and tell your little pueblo they have another hour to come up with what we want. Twenty thousand pesos and Zorro. If you fail, the children and the other two will die. Comprende?"

The alcalde nodded. "Si, señor. I will do my best."

"Good," the man grunted as he pulled the trigger.

Diego was startled by the unexpected shot, and he watched as the alcalde looked in surprise at the growing bloodstain on his jacket.

"Go, alcalde, before you die! You don't want innocent children following you to hell, do you?" He laughed sarcastically, and one of his friends joined him, but the third was silent.

Without replying, the alcalde yanked his horse's head around and kicked the animal to a gallop. Diego ran down the other side of the hill to where his horse was waiting and raced after him. He caught up with DeSoto a little more than two miles from the pueblo when the alcalde fell off his horse.

When he saw Diego, the alcalde was in too much pain to be surprised. "They shot me..." he gasped. "Because I didn't have... the money..."

"I know," Diego replied. He tore open the alcalde's vest and shirt, but the gurgling rattle as DeSoto struggled to breathe told him there was nothing he could do. The alcalde was dying.

"They said... one hour," DeSoto whispered, not realizing what the don said. "Tell Mendoza... the money... all of it... and Zorro..."

"Alcalde," Diego said gently, "you are not going to make it back to the pueblo."

"No..." DeSoto shook his head. "Tell Mendoza..."

"I will."

The alcalde's slow suffocation was panicking him as he struggled to draw breath and couldn't. "Zorro?" he gasped. "The children!" He seemed genuinely concerned. "Tell Mendoza... pardon Zorro... anything... for the children!"

"He will be there. The children will be safe. I promise."

"How?"

DeSoto died knowing the answer.