In a state of feverish anxiety, but with a calm outward appearance, Lawrence marched on, quite incapable of forming any plan of rescue, but not incapable of prayer, or of forming a resolve to do something, though he should die in the attempt. On reaching the corral, he saw Cruz, and recognised him at once. The bandit chief was obviously in haste, for he at once ordered Conrad—or, as we still prefer to call him, Pedro—to be placed with his back against the corral, and the firing-party to draw up in front of him at about twenty yards distance.
Pedro offered no resistance while being led towards the mud wall of the corral. There was neither bravado nor fear in his bearing. Evidently he had made up his mind to die like a Christian, and had given up all hope of deliverance from the foes by whom he was surrounded. But friends were near whom he little dreamed of.
Having up to that point kept his eyes on the ground, he had not observed Lawrence; and the first intimation he had of his presence was on hearing his voice as he stepped forward, placed his tall and stalwart frame in front of him, and said sternly to the firing-party—
“Villains! you will have to send your bullets through my breast before they harm Conrad!”
“Yes, an’ troo dis buzzum too,” cried Quashy, planting himself in front of Lawrence, and glaring defiance in his own peculiar and powerful manner.
“What! two more enemies?” exclaimed Cruz, with a look of pleased surprise and triumph; “seize them, men; but no,—stay, we can as easily kill the three birds at one shot. Ready!”
The firing-party cocked and raised their guns, but were suddenly arrested by seeing the wall of the enclosure behind Pedro lined, as if by magic, with human heads, all of which carefully levelled an equal number of muskets. At the same moment Antonio, Ignacio, Spotted Tiger, Colonel Marchbanks, and the sporting Englishman sprang to the front, and the old hunter, cutting Pedro’s bonds, put a musket into his hands.
“Traitor!” exclaimed Cruz, grinding his teeth with passion, as he scowled at Antonio.
“Fool! do you not know,” retorted Antonio, contemptuously, “that traitors are the offspring of tyrants? I acknowledge you as father in this respect. But I am not here to bandy words. Colonel Marchbanks will speak.”
“Yes, Cruz,” said the old colonel, stepping a pace to the front, “I will speak, and that to the purpose. You see those men?” (pointing to the heads looking over the corral wall)—“ten of the best shots among them have their weapons pointed at your heart. If a single musket is fired by your blackguards, you know what the result will be.”