"But merely wounded, that he may have time for repentance."
"Buena,—then wounded he shall be."
At that moment Antonio struck the young lieutenant on the face, by hurling the file at him, and inflicted a severe wound.
"Fire!" cried Pineda, mad with rage.
A musket was levelled and fired; and while the vaults of the castle rang with a hundred echoes the loud laugh of Antonio was heard. He had crawled along the iron bar into a dark corner of his prison, where, coiled up at the extreme length of his chain, he escaped the bullet, which was flattened on the masonry.
Again and again the soldiers fired in succession, but missed him, and the vault became full of smoke.
"Basta!" said they; "what is the use of wasting powder on a picaroon who is bullet-proof?"
Pineda now took a musket, and aiming very deliberately, fired. Then Antonio's chain was heard to rattle as he sprang from the iron bar with a wild bound, for the ball had broken his right thigh-bone.
Now he howled, bellowed, and literally foamed at the mouth, as he rolled about on the floor, encumbered by his iron chain, his broken leg, and fettered foot. Two other shots were fired; by one an arm was broken, and by the other a collar-bone. On this he lay still, and called out in a husky voice,—
"Senores, I surrender—have mercy!"