The latter was right. In a few minutes the Indians were seen to run down to the defences of the place. Our unfortunates lost sight of them in a few seconds, but they could hear the sound of horsemen approaching at full gallop. In a few minutes they heard shouting; then the yells, fearful cries, and imprecations of men in mortal combat. Soon after that a savage passed the place where they lay, at full speed. Then another and another. It became quickly evident that the defenders of the place were getting the worst of it. At last there was a general flight, and as the savages passed by, the new assailants appeared. It was easy to see that they were composed of all classes, a band of runaway soldiers and escaped convicts.
“Banditti!” exclaimed Lawrence, bitterly.
“Dey’ve got pris’ners. Look, massa.”
Our poor hero looked, and his hearts nearly stood still with horror, for he saw a horseman pass whose figure was strangely like to that of Colonel Marchbanks. His arms were bound, and a villainous-looking man led his horse. Immediately after another bandit-like fellow rode past with a female form seated in front of him. Of course it could be no other than Manuela, and in the agony of the moment Lawrence was about to renew his frantic effort to burst his bonds, when a man on foot ran close past him. Recognising him at once, Lawrence shouted—
“Ignacio!”
The old hunter, for it was he, stopped abruptly, and listened.
Another shout brought him to the side of our hero.
“Good luck!” exclaimed Ignacio, heartily.
“We have been bound by the scoundrels you are chasing,” cried Lawrence, quickly; “cut us free, good Ignacio.”
The hunter drew his long knife and knelt with the apparent intention of releasing them, but suddenly paused.