"Nonsense! Where is he, then?"
"Why, there, in that rancho you can see," the officer replied, bending down complacently to the monk, and extending his arm in the direction he indicated to him.
"Are you sure of it, illustrious commandant?"
"¡Caray! Of course I am."
"Well, I fancy you are mistaken."
"Ah! What do you mean? Do you know anything?"
"Certainly I know something, for I am El Rayo, accursed ladrón!"
And before the officer, startled at this sudden revelation, which he was so far from expecting, had regained his coolness, El Rayo had seized him by the leg, hurled him on the ground, leaped into his saddle, and drawing two revolvers concealed under his gown, he dashed at full speed upon the detachment, firing with both hands simultaneously, and uttering his terrible war cry—"El Rayo! El Rayo!"
The soldiers, who were even more surprised than their officer by this rude, and so unexpected attack, disbanded, and fled in all directions.
El Rayo, after passing through the whole detachment, of whom he killed seven, and hurled an eighth to the ground with his horse's chest, suddenly checked the rapid pace of his steed, and after halting for a few minutes a hundred yards off with an air of defiance, seeing that the dragoons did not pursue him—which the poor horrified fellows had no intention of doing, as they only thought of flying, and left their officer in the lurch—he pulled his horse round, and returned to the officer, who was still lying on the ground as if dead.