"Right, Evan! we are almost safe. Plunge in: follow me!" cried Ronald, springing into the stream, which rose to his waist: the others followed. Keeping close under some weeping willows, that thickly overhung the water, they eluded the search of the ferocious dog, which at that instant gave a yell of disappointment as it shook the foam from its chaps, and stood panting and growling on the bank above them. It next ran fiercely to and fro, snorting and snuffing the air, and tearing up huge pieces of turf with its sharp fangs, as if to discover the lost prey.
"We must cross and gain the cavern now, senor, while the rogues are so far in our rear," said Pedro Gomez, after they had advanced up the bed of the current a little way, treading with difficulty on the slippery pebbles. "I know the path, senor officiale; follow me promptly, if you please,—now is the critical time to elude them altogether." Pedro sprang with agility up the steep bank; Ronald followed, but poor Evan, encumbered by his wet tartan kilt, which in the hurry he had neglected to lift in the Highland manner, stumbled in the centre of the rushing torrent, and at the moment he fell backwards the fierce quadruped sprung upon him from the bank above with a wild yell, and seizing him by the thick folds of his filledh-beg, drew him under water. He was so much disconcerted at finding himself grasped by the terrible foe, that he was only able to utter a faint cry when the stream closed over him; but yet he struggled fiercely with his growling antagonist.
"God, he is lost!" exclaimed Ronald, when on looking back he beheld the danger of his faithful follower. Half swimming, he hurried to the spot, with his broad-sword shortened in his hand, and grasping the dog by the throat, plunged the sharp weapon twice through its body. Its teeth relaxed the hold of Evan's tartan, and the quivering carcase floated bleeding down the stream; while the rescued Highlander, propping himself with his musquet, (which luckily he had never relinquished,) sprang up the bank, where he shook himself like a water-dog, the wet streaming from his bonnet and every part of his dress.
"Viva! noble cavalier; gallantly done! Follow me, this is the cavern," exclaimed Pedro; and rushing up a steep ascent, they followed his example in plunging at once through a thicket of dark green bushes, and found themselves in a gloomy hole, the extent or height of which it was impossible to discover, being involved in utter darkness. The densely thick foliage around the entrance formed a complete exclusion to the light of the moon, which now revealed a dozen or more of their pursuers on the opposite bank of the stream, about which they hunted in every direction for some trace of those they had pursued, and urged on their dogs, which, now completely at fault, ran up and down scenting among the willow trees and shelving rocks, mingling their hoarse baying with the loud and bitter curses of the banditti.
CHAPTER XVI.
A SIEGE.
"Fore-doomed is every felon Scot,
Who stains our native land.
* * * *
In ambush, near this darksome stream,
Five hundred rifles lay;
The water-kelpie stroaked his beard,
And nichered for his prey."
Daniel Vedder.
"They must be somewhere hereabout," cried Cifuentes with a horrible oath, speaking at intervals, while he panted with exhaustion and fatigue. "But where in the name of Beelzebub can they have concealed themselves?"
"They crossed the stream, I can swear," replied one fellow while he loaded his musquet. "I saw them descend the bank with my own eyes."
"You could scarcely see them well with another man's, Puerco Vadija; but there is no trace of them on the opposite bank. One of the dogs is missing, too."