Chapter Fifteen.
Life for Life.
“Gracias!” cried the young Mexican, “mil gracias, caballero! That’s all I can say till I get back my breath.”
He stopped. I could hear his respiration, quick and heavy, as that of a horse halted after a rapid run.
“I hope you have not received any serious injury?” I said, on becoming assured that the only Red Hat remaining in the street was the one lying along the kerb-stone. “Are you wounded?”
“Nothing to signify, I think. A cut or two, perhaps. They’re only scratches.”
“You’re sure?”
“Not quite, caballero; though I fancy I’m all right. I don’t feel disabled—only a little fatigued. It was rather quick play, keeping guard against all five at once. I had no chance to get a thrust at them, else I might have reduced the number. You’ve done that, I perceive. Once more let me thank you for my life.”