"Surrender, surrender!" a numbers of soldiers shouted, as they rushed toward him.
"Nonsense! Does a Spanish general ever surrender?" he said, with a gloomy smile of contempt.
And, whirling his formidable sabre round his head, he drove back the men who had ventured too near him.
"Stop, stop!" Oliver Clary shouted, as he dashed forward. "By heaven, he is a noble soldier; let us grant him the death of a brave man. Defend, yourself, General."
"Thank you, señor," the general replied with a smile; "I expected nothing less from your courtesy."
"A fair fight. Back, señores," the hunter said.
"No, no," a man suddenly shouted, as he hurried to the front. "You are a foreigner, Señor Don Oliver; allow me to settle this quarrel."
The Canadian turned and recognized Don Aníbal de Saldibar.
"Very good," he said, lowering his point with a gesture of respectful deference.
"Do you accept me as an adversary, General?" the hacendero asked.