“Once more I ask you. If you do not, before I count ten, you will never speak again!”
“Bah! your arm is not strong enough, nor your heart brave enough to kill a man,” sneered Despierto, vindictively struggling to free himself.
For a moment all was breathless silence in the room. Naught was heard but the half-choked breathing of the man, who, laying upon his back, with a foeman’s knees pressing into his breast—the dull, red gleam of the long knife that had already drank his blood, as it was poised above his throat, glancing full in his eyes, quailed not, but glowered fiercely at his conqueror, as if daring the final blow. Then a faint murmur ran around the room, half of admiration, half of pity for the bold, strong-hearted man who was about to meet his death. But no one offered to interfere; had he done so, a score of knives would have confronted him. By the miner’s laws of the entire country, Despierto’s life was forfeited to his victor, to be taken when and how his fancy might dictate. Still, a shudder ran over the spectators as the voice of the young miner began to count; it had a hard, metallic ring to it, that appeared to fill the entire room, like the clanging of a huge bell.
“Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho—”
But he counted no further, for the door was thrown violently open, and Joaquina rushed in from the bar-room, screaming:
“Valga me Dios, cavalleros, you are betrayed! The accursed Melladios are here. Hay mucho—muchissimos!” (they are many.)
Instantly all was confusion. Several of those nearest the door ran out to the entrance to see if it was not a false alarm, while the rest hastily possessed themselves of their firearms that were stacked in the corner of the room. Marcos Sayosa arose from the prostrate body of his foe, and said:
“We will settle this affair afterward. Now, every man is needed. Will you help your comrades?”
“I belong to the band,” haughtily replied Despierto, “and will do my duty. You will not have to search for me, if we are both alive after we chastise these beggarly hounds.”
“Good! I will trust you.”