Their consternation was scarcely greater, when a loud “hurrah” was heard outside the skirts of the rancheria; and the heavy hoof-strokes of a troop of cavalry could be distinguished, approaching at full gallop along the road.
Their chief was the only one among the robbers who did not seem to have lost all presence of mind.
Alas! no. It was now displayed with fiendish effect.
On perceiving the surprise, so little expected by him in such a place, he had glided straight towards the Jarocha. Flinging his arms around the girl, he lifted her from the ground, and commenced carrying her towards his horse.
He was not even assisted by his subordinates—for each individual, yielding to the true instinct of sauve qui peut, was seeking his own safety.
I saw that Rayas employed both his arms in this effort—having disengaged the wounded one from its sling, before the surprise had taken place. It was only his hand that was wounded, and the arm was still sufficiently sound for his purpose.
Despite the screams and resistance of the Jarocha, he succeeded in placing her on the pommel of his saddle, and in springing behind her into the seat.
In another instant he was going at full gallop, his left hand directing the reins, both arms encircling the semi-nude body of the Jarocha, whose struggles to free herself were still further defeated, by the teeth of her captor fast clutching the long tresses of her hair.
It was a fearful crisis—the most painful I had yet experienced.
The “rangers” were already entering the outskirts of the rancheria, on its opposite side—their rifles were repeatedly ringing; and here and there I could see a fugitive salteador dropping dead from his saddle. But Rayas, with his victim, was still continuing his flight. No one appeared to fire at him—for fear of injuring the girl—and this the wretch seemed to know, as he rode exultingly away.