The dead bodies were examined one after the other, and with care, but no Arroyo—no Bocardo—could be found among them.
“Let us on, Veraegui!” said Don Rafael. “We must attack them in their stronghold. The chiefs must be hidden up yonder! There is no time to be lost.”
“Alas!” rejoined the Catalan, with a sigh, as he stood regarding the dead bodies with an air of regret, “I fear, Colonel, our ropes will be useless after all. These fellows are all dead; and, as for their comrades up there, we shall have to set fire to their retreat, and burn them alive in it. If we attempt to dislodge them otherwise, it will cost us a goodly number of our people.”
“Oh! do not set fire to the house, Señor Colonel!” interposed the faithful domestic, in an appealing tone; “my poor master is there, and would suffer with the rest. All his people, too, are with him, and in the power of the brigands.”
“It is true, what he says,” rejoined Don Rafael, moved by the appeal of the domestic; “and yet it will never do to let these fiends escape. If we attack them, entrenched as they are, and knowing that certain death await them, they may cost us, as you say, more men than they are worth. What is your advice, Lieutenant?”
“That we reduce them by a siege, and starve them into surrendering. For my part, I don’t wish to be baulked about the hanging of them—especially after the trouble we have taken in bringing these ropes along with us.”
“It will cost time; but I agree with you, it seems the best thing we can do. They must soon yield to hunger; and perhaps before that time we may find some opportunity of getting Don Fernando out of their power. At all events, let us wait for sunrise before renewing the attack. Meanwhile, I leave you to conduct the blockade. The poor lady, Marianita, is, no doubt, wandering about in the woods near at hand. I shall myself go in search of her.”
Saying this, and giving orders for half a dozen chosen men to follow him, Don Rafael leaped into his saddle, and rode off through the gateway of the hacienda.
He had scarcely passed out of sight, when the sentinels placed by Veraegui were signalled by two men who wished to enter the courtyard. Both were afoot, and appeared to have come in such haste that they could scarce get breath enough to proclaim their errand.
“What do you want?” asked the Catalan, before looking at the men. “Eh! my droll fellows!” he continued, recognising Gaspar and Zapote, “it is you, is it? How the devil did you get out of my guard-house?”