"Hola!" he cried. "What are you after?" And instantly such a villainous array of vicious yellow faces was turned on him as he had never before in his life set eyes on.
A babble broke out among them.
"Dios! It is he!"
"It is the fighting padre!"
"It is the devil himself!"
"Down with him!"
"Our turn now, señor missionary!"
And one answer to his question which needed no knowledge of bastard Spanish for its translation. A sharp report, and a bullet buzzed past his head.
Other guns were rising to correct the insufficiency of the first.
"Give it them, boys!" shouted Blair, and before the words were out of his mouth, rocks and fire-pointed spears were raining on them, back and front, and as they tried in vain to face both sides at once, there came the quick crackle of the Winchesters and a ringing cheer from the Torch men at the end of the pass.