"Yes," quickly answered the young man; "we are attacked, but by your peons (attendants)."
"By my attendants!" exclaimed M. Dubois.
"It would appear that these worthy gauchos have found your baggage suit them, and that the idea has occurred to them to seize upon it—that is all. It is very simple, you see. But let me act; they are not going to succeed as easily as they think."
"Perhaps, if I were to speak to them?" ventured the old man.
"Not a word, not a gesture; leave that to me. You are my guest; my duty is to defend you, and, God aiding me, so long as you shall be under my roof, I will defend you, come what may, against everything."
The old man did not attempt to insist; moreover, he had not the time for it. The attendants, for a moment taken aback by his unforeseen appearance, in the midst of them, recommenced their cries and their wild gestures, brandishing their arms with a threatening air, and narrowing every moment the circle in which M. Dubois and his few defenders were compactly standing.
The struggle, which had been on the point of commencement between the two parties, was most unequal, and in the proportion of about one to four; since, besides the two Frenchmen, only six Indians, of whom three were holding the horses and mules, were preparing to fight the twenty bandits or so who had so insolently revolted.
However, notwithstanding their small number, the Frenchmen and their servants resolved to face the danger boldly, and to maintain the combat to the last gasp, considering the conditions that these wretches thought proper to impose unworthy of their acceptance.
The painter coolly cocked his pistols, slung his gun by his shoulder belt, and, instead of waiting the attack of the attendants, boldly advanced towards them, after having rejoined his companions, by a gesture, to remain where they were, but be ready to defend him.
A bold action always has its effect on the masses.