“Maldito! see, a fire!”
“Sure enough, some one is before us. But there can be no danger. Let’s advance. We must have water, and will, if I have to fight for it!” impatiently exclaimed Canelo, clapping spurs to his horse’s side, and charging ahead, closely followed by Tadeo.
Then they heard a report, succeeded in a few moments by another, and again they halted. By this time they were close enough to the spring to note the struggle going on between two men, and then, as they fell to the ground, another puff of smoke came, followed by a report, and the uppermost combatant fell backward with a wild yell.
After waiting for a few minutes, and seeing nothing to occasion further alarm, the two travelers approached the spring, with arms in readiness, and sheltered behind their horses’ bodies.
There was no need of this caution, however, as they soon found, and as but one of the three men showed any signs of life, they at once set about restoring him. The first words that Marcos Sayosa spoke when he once more opened his eyes, were of Tomas Ventura; then noting the old man lying apparently dead, the young miner rushed to his side, not heeding the astonishment that was pictured upon the face of the two travelers.
On examination, they found that although very badly wounded, Ventura was still alive, and set about restoring him. For a long time all efforts were futile, but then the old man opened his eyes, and when they rested upon Augustin Canelo, he exclaimed:
“Holy Virgin, it is he!”
“And are you indeed Tomas Ventura?” eagerly asked Canelo.
“Yes, yes, but I shan’t tell you; you would kill him! Yes, you would kill the boy, so you could get his wealth. Ah-ha, I know you—I know you well. You wanted me to murder the babe, but I fooled you; ha! ha! ha! yes, I deceived you!” screamed Tomas Ventura, wildly.
“Then he lives—you did not kill him? The child, I mean?”