The men from Chantada, accompanied by those of Lugo, were in this garden--had followed us over the wall, had found out our way of escape.
We were doomed! The garrote--the stake--were very near now.
They saw us at once, in an instant--doubtless our forms stood out clearly enough in the beams of the lamp as they poured forth into the garden--and made straight for us, their swords drawn, the unbrowned barrels of their musketoons and pistols gleaming in the moonlight. And the leader shouted, as he ran slightly ahead of the others: "You cannot escape again. Move and we fire on you!"
Yet we heeded him not, but with a bound leapt into the room where those two were--leapt in while I cried: "Jaime, we are undone. Assist us again."
Then swift as lightning I shut the door to, let fall the curtain and drew my sword. "I will never yield to them," I said. "Juan and I escape or die here together."
"Together!" Juan echoed, drawing also his weapon forth.
There was but time to see a still more frightened glance on Eaton's face than before--if added terror could come into a man's eyes more than had been when those eyes had glinted up at Jaime as he stood over him, it came now as Juan sprang to my side, his hat fallen off and his hair dishevelled--while those men were at the door giving on to the garden. And in an instant it was burst open by them--'twas but a poor frail thing!--they were in the room.
"Yield!" the leader cried, "yield, or you die here at once!"
But now Jaime was by our side; three blades were flashing in their faces; we were driving them back, assisted also by a fourth--the negro servant of Eaton, who had sprung into the room from another door. Yet that assistance lasted but a second. Doubtless the unhappy wretch preferred it, thinking it was his master who was in danger! A pistol was fired by some one, and I saw him reel back, falling heavily on the floor, dead, with a bullet between his eyes. And, as he did so, from Eaton there came a scream, while he flung himself over the creature's body.
With those others pistols were now the order of the day, fired ineffectually at first, while still I and the leader fought hand-to-hand around the room. And I had him safe. I knew if I was not cut down from behind that he was mine. My blade was under and over his guard. I prepared for the last lunge, when--curses on the luck!--a bullet took me in the right forearm; there ran through that arm, up to my shoulder, a feeling of numbness, a burning twinge; my sword fell with a clang to the floor.