"Carry him to his house," Señor Zorro went on. "And tell the people of the pueblo that this is the manner in which Señor Zorro punishes those who oppress the poor and helpless, who give unjust verdicts and who steal in the name of the law. Go your ways!"
The magistrado was carried away, groaning, consciousness returning to him now. Señor Zorro turned once more to the landlord.
"We shall return to the tavern," he said. "You will go inside and fetch me a mug of wine, and stand beside my horse while I drink it. It would be only a waste of breath for me to say what will happen to you if you attempt treachery on the way."
But there was fear of the magistrado in the landlord's heart as great as his fear of Señor Zorro. He went back to the tavern beside the highwayman's horse, and he hurried inside, as if to get the wine. But he sounded the alarm.
"Señor Zorro is without," he hissed at those nearest the table. "He has just caused the magistrado to be whipped cruelly. He has sent me to get him a mug of wine."
Then he went on to the wine cask and began drawing the drink slowly as possible.
There was sudden activity inside the tavern. Some half-dozen caballeros were there, men who followed in the footsteps of the governor. Now they drew their blades and began creeping toward the door, and one of them who possessed a pistol and had it in his sash, drew it out, saw that it was prepared for work, and followed in their wake.
Señor Zorro, sitting his horse some twenty feet from the door of the tavern, suddenly beheld a throng rush out at him, saw the light flash from half a dozen blades, heard the report of a pistol, and heard a ball whistle past his head.
The landlord was standing in the doorway, praying that the highwayman would be captured, for then he would be given some credit, and perhaps the magistrado would not punish him for having used the lash.
Señor Zorro caused his horse to rear high in the air, and then raked the beast with the spurs. The animal sprang forward, into the midst of the caballeros, scattering them.