"Of course I did."
"Would it not be frightful—?"
"Good heavens!" the Count de Prébois Crancé, whom the reader has doubtlessly recognised,[4] quickly interrupted him, "that would be fearful. Poor child! Forward, Belhumeur, forward! We must save her."
"Ah!" the Canadian thought to himself, "I was sure I should find the soft place."
The two men bowed over their horses' necks, and started with the velocity of the tempest. They had scarce gone a mile when cries and shots reached their ears.
"Forward—confound it, forward!" the count shouted, urging his horse to increased speed.
"Forward!" Belhumeur repeated.
They rushed into the barranca at headlong speed, and fell like two demons into the midst of the bandits, whom they saluted with two shots; then clubbing their rifles, they employed them like maces, bounding into the medley with indescribable fury.
It was high time for this assistance to reach the colonel. Three of his servants were killed; Don Cornelio was lying wounded on the ground; while Don Sebastian, with his back against a block of granite, was desperately defending himself against five or six bandits who assailed him.
El Buitre had seized Doña Angela, and thrown her across his saddle-bow, in spite of her shrieks and resistance; but suddenly Don Louis dealt the bandit a crushing blow on the head, which hurled him to the ground, and delivered the girl. Belhumeur all this time did not remain inactive; he wounded and trampled under his horse's hoofs all those who dared to oppose his passage.