Still they rode on, sweeping under willows that touched their heads and shoulders, curving in and out between the bamboo rows, at times near the river, again several rods from the bank, following the winding road that by this time had narrowed so that only two could ride abreast, and was increasing in up grade. They had passed through an unusually long stretch of forest and had emerged into an equally long reach of roadway, lighted by the moon, which was still about two hours high—for it was nearly midnight—when General Matajente yelled:—
“There they are!” and pointed to markings straight ahead that at first looked like tall bushes, indicating another turn, but which a second glance told were moving.
A burst of speed followed his exclamation, for reins had been loosened, rowels dug into the horses feverishly, and whips let fall. The pursued were not a quarter of a mile distant and the pursuers were rapidly nearing them, for the shadows grew in size. Indeed, they grew so rapidly that the general looked with care, and then cried sharply, “Halt!” catching Mr. Dartmoor’s horse by the bridle, throwing both the front animals almost on their haunches and bringing those behind to a stand.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed the iron merchant, angrily. He had drawn his revolver.
“You must not fire. Remember the girls are with them.”
Mr. Dartmoor replaced the weapon in his pocket. “But why do we stop?” he asked.
“They have stopped. And see, one of the band is coming to meet us. They want to parley. Let me speak with him, will you?”
The little officer rode ahead a few paces, and Señor Cisneros moved up to Mr. Dartmoor’s side, then all pressed closer.
A man clad in a ragged uniform came riding slowly from the group beyond.
“Well, what is it, fellow?” said the officer.
“General Matajente!” The tone showed the surprise felt by the bandit, but noticing the small numbers behind the intrepid warrior, he regained courage and said insolently:—
“Captain Alfred. He sends word that the señoritas must be paid for.”
“If I did right, I would shoot you down, you dog.”
“And what would happen to the murderers?”
The bandit shrugged his shoulders. “We are forty and you are six,” he said.
“So many as that!” General Matajente was heard to murmur; then aloud he said, “What do you propose?”