"Come on, ye fiends in human shape," said the old man, flourishing
his sword with a skill and strength that showed he was no stranger
to its use, and that there was danger in him. "Come on, ye shall
find that a good blade in an old man's hands is no plaything!"

They listened for a moment: yes, that half-score of villains held
back in dismay at the noble appearance of the old man, and the
flashing fire of his eye.

"Ha! do you falter, ye villains? do you fear a good sword with right
to back it?"

But hark! what sound is that which startles the Montaros in the
midst of their villany, and makes them look into each other's faces
with such consternation and fear? It is a very unfrequented spot-who
can be near? Scarcely had the sound fallen on their ears, before
three horsemen in the undress uniform of the Spanish infantry,
dashed up to the spot at full speed, while one of them, who seemed
to be the leader of the party, leaped from his horse, and before the
others could follow his example, was engaged in a desperate hand to
hand conflict with the robbers. Twice he discharged his pistols with
fatal effect, and now he was fighting sword and sword with a stout,
burly Montaro, who was approaching that side of the volante where
the lady sat, still half concealed by the ample folds of her rebosa,
though the approach of assistance had led her to venture so far as
to partially uncover her face, and to observe the scene about her.

The headlong attack, so opportunely made by the fresh horsemen, was
too much for treble their number to withstand, more especially as