Suddenly, several shots afar off were heard. Emile looked round and perceived Don Santiago, who was returning at full speed towards his troop, brandishing his carbine above his head, with an air of defiance.
Three or four horsemen were in hot pursuit of him.
Arrived at a certain distance the Spaniard stopped, shouldered his carbine and fired, and then started off again at a gallop.
A horseman fell; the others retreated.
The Spaniard soon found himself again in the midst of his own people.
"Halt!" cried he, with a voice of thunder.
The troop immediately stopped.
"Companions, loyal subjects of the king," continued he; "I have reconnoitered these ladrones; they are scarcely forty. Shall we fly any longer before them? Advance! And long live the king!"
"Forward!" repeated the troop, rushing forward with him.
Emile charged with the others—with rather a sullen air, it is true; he cared as little for the king as for the country, and it appeared to him wiser to have made their escape as rapidly as possible; but as, in reality, it was his own cause that these men were defending—as it was to protect him that they fought—he was obliged to take heart against fortune, and not to remain in arrear.