"Hum!" said Don Gregorio, "I will find out this time."
All at once a female voice was heard in a lamentable tone imploring help.
"Make her hold her tongue, carajas!" a man said, coarsely.
But the sound of that voice had reached the ears of Don Tadeo and his friend. At that voice, which both had recognized, they were roused to feelings of deep interest and anger. They pressed each other's hand firmly; their resolution was formed—to die or to save her who called upon them for help.
"Holloa! what is this about?" another individual said, pulling up his horse.
Two men, standing firmly in the middle of the street, seemed determined to bar the passage of the horsemen, of whom there were five. One of them held a woman before him on his horse.
"Holloa!" cried the one who had just spoken, "get out of the way, if you don't wish to be ridden over."
"You shall not pass," a deep voice replied, "unless you release the woman you are bearing off."
"Shan't we?" the horseman remarked with a laugh.
"Try," said Don Gregorio, cocking his pistol; a movement silently imitated by Don Tadeo, whom he had supplied with firearms.