Rifle in hand I watched his movements, with an earnestness I cannot describe. The feverish anxiety, with which the stalker regards the shifting of the stag, can give but a faint idea of that stirring within me.
I had hopes that the coward might become separated from the fair form he was using as a shield. Six inches would have satisfied me: for his last brutal innuendo proclaimed a terrible emergency; and with six inches of his carcase clear I should have risked the shot.
But, no! He did not allow me even this trifling chance. He seemed to divine my intent; and inch by inch, keeping her body straight between us—O God, to see her in that swarth embrace!—he sidled behind the stone!
The other followed his example, taking Dolores; and before another word could be spoken, both robbers and captives had passed out of sight!
The instant after, half a score of hats started suddenly out of the bushes, that skirted the edge of the cliff; and we were saluted by a volley from a like number of escopetas.
A rifleman, standing in the door by my side, threw up his arms with a shriek, and fell forward upon the stoup.
As I caught hold, to hinder him from going over the cliff, something hot came spurting against my cheek.
It was the life-blood of my comrade, who had been killed by the bullet of an escopeta.
I saw that I was dealing with a dead body; and desisted from the struggle to sustain it.
It glided from my grasp, and fell with a heavy plash upon the swift water below!