"The Spaniards! It is! I know the voice! My God!"
In an instant Buttons was down on the ground and in the midst of the crowd of brigands who surrounded the coach.
Bang! bang! bang! It was not the guns of the brigands, but Dick's pistol that now spoke, and its report was the signal of death to three men who rolled upon the ground in their last agonies. As the third report burst forth the Senator hurled himself down upon the heads of those below. The action of Buttons had broken up all their plans, rendered parley impossible, and left nothing for them to do but to follow him and save him. The brigands rushed at them with a yell of fury.
"Death to them! Death to them all! No quarter!"
"Help!" cried Buttons. "Passengers, we are armed! We can save ourselves!"
But the passengers, having already lost their money, now feared to lose their lives. Not one responded. All about the coach the scene became one of terrible confusion. Guns were fired, blows fell in every direction. The darkness, but faintly illuminated by the fitful firelight, prevented the brigands from distinguishing their enemies very clearly--a circumstance which favored the little band of Americans.
The brigands fired at the coach, and tried to break open the doors. Inside the coach the passengers, frantic with fear, sought to make their voices heard amid the uproar. They begged for mercy; they declared they had no money; they had already been robbed; they would give all that was left; they would surrender if only their lives were spared.
"And, oh! good Americans, yield, yield, or we all die!"
"Americans?" screamed several passionate voices. "Death to the Americans! Death to all foreigners!"
These bandits were unlike the last.