“You will—”
“Capitan, there is a large body of men out here in full view. Shall we fire?” interrupted a man who was standing at a loop-hole.
He was speedily answered, for scarcely had the words issued from his lips, than a blaze of light shone in at the loop-holes, and the loud roar of many guns told that the half-drunken Melladios had fired a volley at the building. The man who had just spoken gave a convulsive spring into the air, and fell dead at his young leader’s feet, shot through the throat. A low, thrilling rattle, a gasp, and he was dead!
“Fire, men, fire!” yelled Sayosa, as he sprung to the loop-hole thus vacated, and sent his bullet with the rest.
The stars shone brightly enough to indistinctly reveal the forms of their assailants as they surged to and fro in the open space beyond, and at the dense mass were the guns discharged with deadly effect. The reports were followed by a hideous uproar: the groans and shrieks of the wounded, mingled with the hoarse yells of rage and vengeance of their comrades; the rushing tramp hither and yon, as they retreated or advanced, according to their courage or recklessness; the clang of steel, shot and escopettes against the pavement as the weapons were reloaded; the flash and dull roar as a piece was discharged at the building—all made up a wild, weird picture.
Afar off could faintly be heard the roll of a drum and call of bugles, showing that the town was alarmed, but that afforded neither fear to the one nor hope to the other party, for well they knew that the military force available could do nothing toward quelling the riots, and, before aid could be procured, the matter would be decided in one way or the other.
Marcos Sayosa had no fear of the ultimate result being against him. He knew that his comrades of the Rayas mine would soon learn of their situation, and, until they should arrive to the rescue, he could hold the building against the Melladios. So, by his orders, the men kept up a steady fusillade from the loop-holes wherever a foe could be seen, and by dodging as quickly as their shot was delivered, the return fire, aimed at the flashes, was harmless, although several bullets passed through the apertures.
Then came a wild, ferocious yell from the besiegers, as if at the arrival of some powerful auxiliary. The occupants of the posada were not long left in doubt as to the meaning of this uproar. Indeed, the truth was suspected before the cries had died away, and those nearest to the door soon heard the roaring, crackling sound that but one thing emits—fire.
It was but too true. The Melladios had splintered the shelves, outer door, and bar-room furniture, piled it in the center of the room and against the partition door, poured spirits over it, and then applied a candle. Although the side-walls were of sun-dried bricks, or adobes, there was plenty of fuel in the floors, partition, roof and ceiling, that would burn like tinder, and was a danger not to be scorned.
“Bah! the drunken fools; let them yell. We will foil them yet,” sneered Sayosa. “Here, half a dozen of you cut a hole through the adobes at the further end. You can do it easily with your machetes and cuchillos. The rest of you keep up a fire on the demons out yonder. The light will reveal them plainly now, and it will keep them from suspecting what we are doing. This bonfire will show our conpairanos where to seek us, and then we will take a dear revenge upon these rascally dogs who disgrace the name of mineros!”