“Very well. I will take the first fellow to the left. Alano, you take the second; Mark, you the third; and you, Burnham, take any one in the rear you choose.”
“I’ll take the middle guard,” muttered the newspaper man.
“I know you can all fire well, so aim for the sword arm,” went on the captain. “There is no necessity for killing the fellows, unless it comes to close quarters. Ready? Take aim—fire!”
The words “Take aim!” had been spoken aloud, causing several of the guards to draw rein in alarm. At the command to fire, our pistols blazed away simultaneously, and our several aims were so good that four of the guards were hit, three in the arms and one in the side.
“Forward, and fire again!” shouted the gallant captain, and out of the clearing we dashed, discharging our weapons a second time.
The detachment of Spanish soldiers was taken completely by surprise. The lieutenant in command had been wounded, and when he saw us coming from the woods he imagined we must outnumber his men, for he gave a hasty order to retreat, and led the way. For a third time we fired, and scarcely had the echo died among the hills than every one of the soldiers was going back the way he had come, as rapidly as his horse would carry him, the vidette, who had turned also, going with them.
“Mark!” cried my father, when he saw me. “Is it possible!”
“Father!” was all I could say. With my knife I cut the rawhide thongs which bound him to the mule’s back, and in a second more we were in each other’s arms. The other prisoner was also released, and both were speedily provided with weapons.
“We must not lose time here—follow me!” shouted Captain Guerez. “You can talk all you please later on,” he added to me and my happy parent.