"You shall not pass," Shaw continued. "Give me Doña Clara!"
Red Cedar felt that he was lost: Valentine, Don Miguel, and their comrades, at length freed from the tent, were hurrying up at full speed.
"Wretch!" he exclaimed.
And, making his horse bound, he cut his son down with his sabre. The witnesses uttered a cry of horror, while the gambusinos, starting at full speed, passed like a whirlwind through the dense mass of foes.
"Oh!" Don Miguel shrieked, "I will save my daughter."
And leaping on a horse, he rushed in pursuit of the bandits; the hunters and Indians, leaving the burning camp to a few plunderers, also started after them. But suddenly an incomprehensible thing occurred: a terrible, superhuman noise was heard; the horses, going at full speed, stopped, neighing with terror; and the pirates, hunters, and redskins, instinctively raising their eyes to Heaven, could not restrain a cry of horror.
"Oh!" Red Cedar shouted, with an accent of rage impossible to render; "I will escape in spite of Heaven and Hell!"
And he buried his spurs in his horse's flanks; the animal gave vent to a snort of agony, but remained motionless.
"My daughter, my daughter!" Don Miguel shouted, striving in vain to reach the Pirate.
"Come and take her, dog," the bandit yelled; "I will only give her to you dead."