Like a thief skulking after the unsuspecting pedestrian, on whom he
intends to practise his professional skill, so did I follow Francisco.
Absorbed in the earnestness of my purpose, I did not observe three
genuine thieves, who were skulking after me.
I am scarce exact in my nomenclature. They were not thieves, but
_picarones-a-pied_--footpads.
My first acquaintance with these gentry was now to be made.
As already said, I was not aware that any one was imitating me, in the
somewhat disreputable _role_ I was playing.
After watching my rival disappear within his doorway, I remained for
some seconds in the street--undecided which way to go. I had done with
"querido Francisco;" and intended to return to my quarters.
But where were they? Engrossed by my espionage I had made no note of
the direction, and was now lost in the streets of La Puebla!
What was to be done? I stood considering.
All of a sudden I felt myself grappled from behind!
Both my arms were seized simultaneously, at the same time that a
_garota_ was extended across my throat!
They were strong men who had taken hold of me; but not strong enough to
retain it.
I was then in the very vigour of my manhood; and, though it may seem
vanity to say so, it was a vigour not easily overcome.
With a quick wrench, I threw off the two flankers; and turning
suddenly--so that the _garota_ was diverted from its purpose--I got a
blow at the ruffian who held it that sent him face foremost upon the
pavement.
Before any of the three could renew their attempt, I had my revolver in
hand--ready to deal death to the first who re-assailed me.
The footpads stood aghast. They had not expected such a determined
resistance; and, if left to themselves, in all probability, I should
have seen no more of them that night.
If left to themselves, I could have dealt with them conveniently enough.
In truth, I could have taken the lives of all three, as they stood in
their speechless bewilderment.
I held in my hand a Colt's six-shooter, Number 2; another in my belt;
twelve shots in all--sure as the best percussion caps and careful
loading could make them. A fourth of the shots would have sufficed: for
I had no thought of taking uncertain aim.
Despite the cause given me for excitement, I never felt cooler in my
life--that is for a combat. For an hour before, my nerves had been
undergoing a strain, that served only to strengthen them.
I had been in want of something upon which to pour out my gathering
wrath; and here was the thing itself. God, or the devil, seemed to have
sent the three thieves as a safety-valve to my swollen passion--a sort
of target on which to expend it!
Jesting apart, I thought so at the time; and so sure was I of being able
to immolate the trio at my leisure, that I only hesitated as to which of
them I should shoot down first!
You may be incredulous. I can assure you that the scene I am describing
is no mere romance, but the transcript of a real occurrence. So also
are the thoughts associated with it.