"But, señor," observed M. Dubois, in a conciliating tone, "you are acting very strangely; you are completely wanting in consideration to—"
"Silence!" a second time called Zeno Cabral; "However well taken may be your precautions; however far you may have come, so as to secretly plot your treason, for a long time I have been watching you, but I wanted to take you in the very act. Throw away your swords, gentlemen; you are my prisoners."
"Your prisoners! You are joking!" cried they.
"It is time!" cried Don Armero, who up to this time had remained a silent, but not disinterested, witness of the scene.
Zeno Cabral had not made a movement. At the cry of Juan Armero the glade had, as if by magic, filled with soldiers.
Don Roque and Don Eusebio saw that they were lost. Followed by Don Sebastiao, who had boldly placed himself at their side, a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other, they rushed on the nearest Montoneros, and tried to force a passage.
There was a moment of frightful tumult, mixed with cries and imprecations of rage or pain—the sound of firearms—a hurried tramping—and then calmness suddenly ensued.
Don Eusebio, his left arm broken by a ball, was lying on the ground, tightly bound with a lasso; Don Roque and Don Sebastiao, both unwounded, were also bound, and crouching on the ground, at a few paces from General Moratín; as to M. Dubois, at the moment when he drew two pistols from his pocket and prepared, though he was no soldier, to sell his life dearly, he had received a ball in the middle of the forehead, and was lying dead.
Mataseis and Sacatripas tried to gain the money which they had received; they alone had drawn, Zeno Cabral having given the order to seize the conspirators without wounding them, if possible.
The partisan then approached the prisoners.