I saw the red giant before me with his hand raised on high. His blade
had already drawn my blood, and was crimsoned at the point; it was about
to descend with a finishing stroke. I should be unable to parry it, for
I had just exhausted my strength in guarding against a blow from Ijurra.
My hopeless peril wrung from me a cry of despair.
Was it my cry that caused the blade to drop from the hand of my
antagonist, and the uplifted arm to fall loosely by his side? Was it my
cry that created the consternation suddenly visible in the faces of my
foes? I might have fancied so, had I not heard a sharp crack from
behind, and seen that the arm of El Zorro was broken by a shot!
It seemed like the awaking from some horrid dream. One moment I was
battling, face to face, with three desperate men; the instant after,
their backs were towards me, and all three were running as for life!
I followed them with my eyes, but not far; for at twenty paces off they
plunged into the thicket, and disappeared.
I turned in the opposite direction. A man was running across the open
ground with a gun in his hand. He was advancing towards the spot where
I stood. It was he who had fired the shot. I saw that he was in
Mexican costume; surely he was one of the guerrilleros--he had aimed at
me, and wounded his comrade?
For some seconds, I fancied that such might be the case. Evidently he
was bolder than any of the three, for he continued to advance, as if
determined to attack me alone!
I placed myself in readiness for this new antagonist--taking a fresh
grasp on my sword, and wiping the blood from my eyes, that I might the
better receive him.
It was not until he was close to the point of my blade, that I
recognised the long ape-like arms, and crooked mateless limbs, of Elijah
Quackenboss!
The ranger, after delivering his fire, had not waited to reload, but ran
forward with the intention of joining me in the hand-to-hand fight--
though he carried no other weapon than his empty gun. But this would
have been an efficient arm in such hands; for, despite his unsymmetrical
build, Dutch Lige was stalwart and though, and would have been a full
match for any two of my assailants, had they stood their ground.
But the crack of the gun had set them off like deer. They fancied, no
doubt, that a stronger force was near; perhaps they remembered the
terrible rifles of the trappers, and no doubt believed it was they who
had arrived to the rescue. Indeed, such was my own belief, until I saw
the oddly-costumed ranger bounding towards the spot.
A glance satisfied me that I owed my preservation to Lige's love of
botanical science. A large globe-shaped cactus plant, bristling like a
hedgehog, hung dangling from the swivel of his gun--it was thus carried
to save his fingers from contact with its barbed spines--while stuck
into every loop and button-hole of his dress could be seen the leaves
and branchlets, and fruits and flowers, of a host of curious and unknown
plants! He had been herborising in the woods; and coming by chance
within earshot of the scuffle, had scrambled through the bushes just in
time to spoil the _coup-de-grace_ intended by El Zorro.
"Thanks, Quackenboss! thanks, my brave friend! you came in good time:
you have saved me."
"But a poor shot I've made, capten. I ought to have broken that red
divel's skull, or sent my bullet into his stomach; he's got off too
easy."
"It was a good shot: you broke his arm, I think."
"Ach! 'twas a poor shot; the cactus spoiled my aim. You hurt, capten?"
"I am wounded, but not mortally, I think. I feel a little faint: 'tis
only the blood. My horse--you will find him yonder--among the trees--
yonder. Go, Lige; bring my horse--my horse--"
For some minutes, I was out of the world.
When consciousness came back, I perceived that my steed had been brought
up, and stood near. The botanist was bending over me, and binding up my
wounds with strips torn from his own shirt. He had one boot on; the
other stood by, full of water, a portion of which he had already poured
down my throat, and with the rest he proceeded to bathe my temples and
wash the blood from my face.
This done, I soon felt refreshed and strong enough to mount; and having
climbed into the saddle, I set out for the rancheria, my companion half
guiding, half leadin my horse.
By the path which we followed, we should have to pass close to the
hacienda and within sight of it; but night had come on, and the darkness
would hinder us from being observed. It was what I now desired, though
I had left the cerro with hopes and wishes directly the reverse. With a
red gash upon my forehead--my uniform torn and blood-stained--I feared
being seen, lest my invalid appearance should create unnecessary alarm.
But we passed on without meeting any one, either by the hill or upon the
main road; and in half-an-hour after, I was safe within my _cuarto_ in
the house of the alcalde.