Then came a rush of catlike footfalls and a clatter of hoofs. All at once voices were heard, crying:
"Ladrones! ladrones!"
Dark figures appeared on every hand, sending natives fleeing to shelter. Spanish oaths sounded on the evening air, and the glint of steel was seen.
"Shimminy Gristmas!" gurgled Hans Dunnerwust. "Uf we don'd peen in a heap uf drouble, I know noddings!"
"It's the bandits, Frank!" called Professor Scotch. "They have charged right into the town, and they——"
"Ha! ha!" laughed Carlos. "You fear the bandits! They are my friends. They are here, and it is my turn!"
A horseman was riding straight down on Frank, and the boy flung Carlos aside, making a leap that took him out of the way.
Something, glittering brightly, descended in a sweep toward Frank's head, but the blow was stopped by Carlos, who shouted something in Spanish.
Frank understood Spanish well enough to catch the drift of the words, and he knew his cousin had not saved him through compassion, but for quite another purpose.
Carlos coveted the riches into which Frank had fallen, and he meant to have a portion of the money. If Frank were killed, there was little chance that he would ever handle a dollar of the fortune, so he had cried out that his cousin was to be spared, captured, and held for ransom.