"Stop! Señor Nunez!" Tom shouted in a loud, clear tone. "Stop! or by heaven there will be four victims instead of two! Let one of you lift a finger against these captives—let one of you come one step nearer to us—and, by the Holy Virgin, we will drive our knives into these children's hearts!"
A cry of astonishment broke from the crowd, and one of agony and rage from Nunez, who tottered against a wall in horror at the danger in which his daughters were placed.
"Listen! all of you," Tom said, "we are English officers, we have shown our papers to Nunez, and he knows it is so. We will not suffer this murder of a mother and her child. If they are to die, we will die with them; but these two children shall die too! Now, what is it to be?"
A dozen of the guerillas leveled their guns at the two daring boys.
"No! no!" Nunez shrieked; "lower your guns. Don't hurt the children, señors. The captives shall not be hurt; I swear it! They shall go free. Give me my children."
"Not if I know it," Tom said; "Do you think I could trust the word of a man who would murder women and children in cold blood? No; these girls shall go with us as hostages, till we are safe under French guard."
"They will tell them the way up here," said one of the woman in the group, "and then we shall be all killed."
"No," Tom said; "the lady shall swear not to tell the way up here. She shall swear on your priest's crucifix. We will give you our words as British officers."
"But how are the children to get back here again?" another asked, for Nunez was so paralyzed that he could only gaze on the children, who were crying bitterly, and implore them to stand quiet, and not try to get away. After more parleying the arrangements were completed. The crowd fell back on either side, so as to leave a large space round the French lady. Tom and Peter then went up to them with the little girls. The lady was sobbing with joy and excitement at this unexpected relief.
"Can you walk?" Tom asked her in English.