But the peons had scarce started, ere three shots were fired, and three men rolled in the dust. The newcomers, in this way, warned their friends to hold their ground, and that they were bringing help. The dismounted peons were not wounded, though greatly shaken by their fall, and unable to take part in the fight; their horses alone were hit, and that so cleverly, that they at once fell.
"Eh, eh!" the capataz said, as he galloped on; "these pícaros have a very sure hand. What do you think of it?"
"I say that there are still four of us; that is double the number of those waiting for us down there, and we are sufficient to master them."
"Don't be too sure, my good friend, Zaragate," the capataz said with a grin; "they are men made of iron, who must be killed twice over before they fall."
The Tigrero and his companions had heard shots and seen the peons bite the dust.
"There is Valentine," said the Frenchman.
And digging in their spurs, they dashed at the peons.
Valentine and his two comrades, Belhumeur and Black Elk (for the Frenchman was not mistaken, it was really the hunter coming up, whom the Canadian had warned) fell on the peons simultaneously with Don Martial and his companion.
A terrible, silent, and obstinate struggle went on for some minutes between these nine men; the foes had seized each other round the body, as they were too close to use firearms, and tried to stab each other. Nothing was heard but angry curses and panting, but not a word or cry, for what is the use of insulting when you can kill?
The Zaragate, so soon as he recognized the hunter, dashed at him. Valentine, although taken off his guard, offered a vigorous resistance; the two men were entwined like serpents, and, in their efforts to dismount each other, at last both fell, and rolled beneath the feet of the combatants who, without thinking of them, or perceiving their fall, continued to attack each other furiously.
The hunter was endowed with great muscular strength and unequalled science and agility; but on this occasion he had found an adversary worthy of him. The Zaragate, some years younger than Valentine, and possessed of his full bodily strength, while urged on by the love of a rich reward, made superhuman efforts to master his opponent and plunge his navaja into his throat. Several times had each of them succeeded in getting the other underneath, but, as so frequently happens in wrestling, a sudden movement of the shoulders or loins had changed the position of the adversaries and brought the one beneath who a moment previously had been on the top.