"A dragoon! Had he a plume of red horsehair?"
"He had; but I think he has left the half or whole of it among the bushes in his flight."
"Caramba! then 'tis either Don Alvaro, or one of his rascally troop! I shall have revenge for the night they made me spend in the Convento de San Juan at Merida. We will search this cavern, and take a true Spanish vengeance on whoever we find there. Look well to your knives and flints, comrades."
"I perceive," said Ordonez, "some alteration has taken place among the vines which conceal the entrance. They are all broken and trodden down; I can swear they were not so this morning."
"Then there it is they are concealed. Tie up the dogs; bind them to the trees; cross the stream. Let whoever thirsts for vengeance, follow me! let whoever is concealed there tremble, for their hour is come!" said Narvaez, concluding with one of those frightful Spanish maledictions with which their conversation was so freely interspersed. The reader may suppose with what feelings of excitement and desperation the three weary fugitives beheld their remorseless pursuers boldly cross the stream to storm their hiding-place. But perhaps Cifuentes and his followers would have advanced less courageously, had they been perfectly assured that those of whom they were in search were really so close at hand.
"Thank Heaven, and our own caution, the ammunition is dry," said Ronald; "and the sixty rounds we have among us will last until to-morrow, if we are sparing and aim well. Let us fire on them as they cross the stream; 'tis neck or nothing with us now. See that you make sure of your men: I will aim at Cifuentes,—the scoundrel with the long feather and high-crowned hat."
The three musquets at once flashed from the dark cavern, the distant recesses of which echoed to the loud report, while the sudden light filled its windings and craggy nooks, illuminating them for an instant as a flash of lightning would have done. Three of the banditti fell splashing in the middle of the stream, which bore them off from the reach of their comrades, whom this unlooked-for volley had stricken with dismay. Ronald missed Narvaez, owing to a sudden motion of the latter; but severely wounded Puerco Vadija, who was behind him. Evan and Pedro had both killed their men.
The wild shrieks and outcries of the drowning robber, re-echoing among the windings of the stream, so greatly appalled and terrified his brother rogues, that, instead of advancing to the assault, they re-crossed the stream, fled up the bank, and ensconced themselves behind the rocks and trees, seeking shelter from the deadly aim of their concealed enemies, and abandoning Vadija to his fate; but his last drowning cry, as it came sweeping towards them on the night-wind, found an echo in the heart of his slayer. From behind the covers where they had posted themselves, a sharp fire was maintained on both sides for some hours, without any damage being done. However, the three soldados had the best of it in this bush-fighting sort of warfare, as they could aim steadily at a head, or a leg, or an arm, the moment it appeared in view, without exposing themselves in the slightest degree; while their opponents took for their object of attack the large dark cluster of vines which concealed the cavern's mouth, and leaden bullets innumerable came whistling through the intertwined foliage, and were flattened against the rocks, or sunk with a loud bang into the soft green turf near its entrance. But Ronald and his friends escaped most miraculously, while the shot hissed often within an inch of their ears, causing a peculiarly unpleasant and tingling sensation within them, which must be experienced to be comprehended properly.
"Dios mio, senors! my cartridges are nearly expended. I have but six left," cried the dragoon, shaking the little cartridge-box which hung at his shoulder-belt.
"Heavens! I have fired my last shot," exclaimed Stuart in reply, when, on putting his hand into Lazarillo's canvas pouch, he found it empty. "We can never hold out till some relief comes. Evan, how stands your pouch?"