The traveller understood that he had fallen into a trap: that any resistance would be madness, and that the only chance of safety lay in submission: still, as in spite of his age, he was endowed with a firm character and energetic mind, he would not thus allow himself vanquished at the first collision, and resolved to try and render his troublesome position as agreeable as he could.
After tenderly embracing his daughter, and recommending her to remain quiet and not interfere, whatever might happen, he opened the carriage door, and actively sprang into the road, with a revolver in each hand. The soldiers, though surprised at the action, did not make a move to oppose it, but remained immoveable in their ranks.
The traveller's four servants ranged themselves behind him unhesitatingly, with their rifles in readiness to fire on receiving their master's order.
Sánchez had spoken truly; don Jesús Domínguez was coming up at a gallop; but he was not alone, another horseman accompanied him.
The latter was a short, thick set man, with stern features and a sidelong glance: the reddish tinge of his complexion proved him to be a full blooded Indian: he wore the sumptuous uniform of a colonel in a regular army.
The traveller at once recognized this unpleasant personage as don Felipe Neri Irzabal, one of the guerillero chiefs of Juárez' party; he had met him twice or thrice at Veracruz.
It was with a nervous start and a thrill of terror that the old gentleman awaited the arrival of the two men; still, when they were only a few paces from him, instead of allowing them to question him, he was the first to speak.
"Hola, caballeros," he shouted to them in a haughty voice, "what is the meaning of this, and why do you thus compel to interrupt my journey?"
"You shall learn, my dear sir," the guerillero replied with a grin; "and in the first place, that you may know at once what you have to expect, I arrest you in the name of the country."
"Arrest me! You?" the old gentleman protested. "By what right, pray?"