“Have we not said that we wish to take you alive?” replied Pepé, coldly.
Chapter Forty Eight.
The King-Maker a Captive.
In the whole course of his adventurous life, Don Estevan had never been in such danger. The plain offered him no protection against the rifles of his enemies—two at least of whom had an infallible eye and steady aim—and who had also the advantage of an impregnable position, and turrets of rock behind which to intrench themselves. Don Estevan did not conceal from himself the extent of his danger; but neither did his courage give way.
“Let us have done with this trifling,” cried the sonorous voice of Bois-Rose, whose generosity made him averse to profit by his advantages, and who scrupled always to shed blood if he could avoid it. “You have heard that we wish no harm to any but your chief, and you must make up your mind to let us take him. Retire then willingly, if you do not wish us to treat you as we intend to treat him.”
“Never!” cried Diaz, “shall I commit such a cowardice? You are the first comers; so be it; we will yield the ground to you, but Don Estevan must be allowed to go with me.”
“We refuse,” cried Pepé; “we particularly want the man you call Don Estevan.”
“Do not oppose the justice of God,” added Fabian; “your cause is only that of man. We give you five minutes to reflect, after which our rifles and our good cause shall decide between us.”