De Lara sweeps past the midshipman without saying a word; without even taking notice of him. His affair is with one further on.
But now Calderon is coming up, clearly with the intent to assault, as shown in his eyes.
Suddenly, however, their expression changes at sight of the bared blade. Again that diabolical dirk! Despite a pull he has just taken from the flask, his courage fails him; and crestfallen, as a knight compelled to lower his plume, he too passes Cadwallader, without a word—riding on after De Lara.
He overtakes the latter in time to be spectator of a scene; in its commencement somewhat similar to that enacted by himself, but with a very different termination.
Crozier, whose ear has also caught the sounds from behind, draws bridle, and looks back. He sees De Lara making towards him; and, at a glance, divines the intent. It is a golpe de caballo, or collision of horses—a common mode of assault among Spanish Californians.
Instead of turning aside to avoid it, he of Shropshire determines on a different course. He knows he is upon a strong horse, and feels confident he can stay there.
With this confidence he faces towards the advancing enemy, and after taking true bearing, spurs straight at him.
Breast to breast the horses meet, shoulder to shoulder the men. Not a word between these themselves, both too maddened to speak. Only a cry from Carmen Montijo, a shriek from Iñez Alvarez, heard simultaneously with the shock.
When it is over, Don Francisco de Lara is seen rolling upon the road—his horse kicking and sprawling in the dust beside him.
Regaining his feet, the gambler rushes to get hold of a pistol, whose butt protrudes from his saddle-holster.