At her side stood the figure of a tall,
stately man, whose hat had been knocked over his head in the
struggle, and whose white hairs gave token of his age. Two of the
robbers, who had received the contents of his two pistols, lay dead
by the side of the volante, and having now only his sword left, he
stood thus, as if determined to protect her by his side, even at the
cost of his life.
The robbers had at last quite overmatched the four outriders, and
having bound the only one of them that had sufficient life left to
make him dangerous to them, they turned their steps once more
towards the volante. There were in all some thirteen of them, but
three already lay dead in the road, and the other ten, who had some
sharp wounds distributed among them, now standing together, seemed
to be querying whether they should not revenge the death of their
comrades by killing both the occupants of the volante, or whether
they should pursue their first purpose of only robbing them of what
valuables they possessed.
Fierce oaths were reiterated, and angry words exchanged between one
and another of the robbers, as to the matter they were hastily
discussing, while the old gentleman remained firm, grasping the hilt
of his well-tempered sword, and showing to his enemies, by the
stern, deep resolve they read in his eye, that they had not yet
conquered him.
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