grip upon his rifle, and the weapon was discharged, the report vibrating with an echo that made it seem almost a cannonade. At the same time his head came into contact with the hard floor with such force that it completely stunned him.
In the moment of consciousness between the report of the rifle and the time his head struck the floor, he saw a figure leap forward out of the darkness, and as he lost consciousness the sound of his own rifle seemed to be taken up and echoed back by an innumerable number.
And that was just exactly what happened.
The figure that had leaped forward was Donald, and the volley came from the carbines of a score of rurales, who had followed him into the cave, and fired pointblank at the smugglers over Adrian’s prostrate form. The lariat in the hands of one of the smugglers had pulled Adrian to the earth, just in time to save him from the fire of the rurales.
For the next few minutes the battle in the cave raged with the utmost fierceness. The smugglers had taken their stand in an alcove, hewn into one side of the cave, a little above the floor level. A projecting shelf afforded them a slight shelter, and from this partially fortified position, they made a desperate fight. In fact, they were doing great damage among the rurales, and it had begun to look as though they might succeed in driving them to shelter, when a rattle of shots from their rear completely
disconcerted them, and they threw down their guns and called out that they surrendered.
The next instant there emerged, seemingly out of the solid rock, three figures with blackened faces and tattered garments, who advanced toward the rurales. They were Billie, Santiago and Guadalupe.
“Don’t shoot!” cried Billie, as the rurales, thinking them some new foe, raised their carbines. “We are friends!”
“Billie!” shouted Donald, dropping his revolver and grasping his stout comrade in both arms. “What has happened to you?”
“We were in the explosion.”