They were already _too_ near. I should be overtaken, struck down, pierced, with my back to the foe.

I had no time to reflect--just enough to leap back a pace or two, so as to bring all three of them in front of me, when I found my sword clashing against their blades, and parrying their blows one after the other.

I can describe the unequal combat no farther. It was a confused medley of cut and thrust, in which I both gave wounds and received them. I was wounded in several places, and felt the warm blood running under my clothes and over my face.

I grew wearied to death, and every second growing weaker and fainter.

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.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

AN OFFICIAL BLACK LIST.

The incidents of the day preyed upon my spirits, and I was far from feeling easy about the future. I knew that my betrothed would be true till death; and I felt ashamed that I had doubted her, even for a moment. About her loyalty I had no uneasiness, and I mentally vowed never more to give way to suspicion.

It was no thought of that that now troubled me, but an anxiety about _her personal safety_; and this grew stronger the more I pondered upon it, till it assumed almost the form of a fear.

The man who had used such bitter threats, and behaved with so much rudeness, would scarcely stop at anything. 'Tis true I had deprived him of much of his power over her, by stripping him of the dangerous documents; but it was not this time, nor was he the man, to stand upon nice distinctions of legality, where jealousy and cupidity were the incentives to action. Holding a sort of irresponsible office as the chief of what was less a patriotic guerrilla than a band of brigands, it was difficult to tell what such a monster might or might not attempt.

In our absence from the post the ruffian would be full master of the neighbourhood. What deed might he not accomplish with impunity, holding his power directly from the unprincipled dictator, whom he was accustomed to imitate as a model, and who would indorse any act of villainy, provided it was the act of one of his own satellites? I shuddered as I reflected.

The reappearance of Ijurra and his band--for I doubted not that his followers were near--their reappearance in that vicinity, and at such a crisis--just as we were being withdrawn--had something ominous in it.

They must have known ere this of the plan of campaign designed for the American army. Wheatley's rumour had proved well founded. The new commander-in-chief, Scott, had arrived upon the ground, and three-fourths of the "army of occupation" had been draughted to form the expedition destined to act upon Vera Cruz. As this greedy general stripped our old favourite "Rough and Ready" of _only_ his best troops, we had the consolation of knowing that the "rangers" were among the "picked;" though, for all that, many of us would have preferred remaining with the brave veteran who had already led us so often to victory. I can answer for Wheatley and myself; I might also vouch for Holingsworth, though far different were his motives for wishing to remain on the Rio Grande. His sweetheart was revenge--in his breast long cherished--to his heart faithful and true.

I have said that our design must have been known to the enemy ere this; indeed our army was already in movement. Troops and brigades were marching upon Brazos Santiago, and Tampico, there to be embarked for the south, and all that were to go had received their orders. The provinces on the Rio Grande were not to be entirely abandoned, but the army left there was to have its lines contracted, and would therefore cover much less ground. Not only was our little post to be deserted, but the neighbouring town, which had long been the head-quarters of a division, was also to be evacuated. No force of ours would remain within fifty miles of the rancheria; and perhaps no American troop would ever again visit that isolated village. The reflection rendered me more than melancholy.

No doubt of it, then, the enemy was apprised of our movements. In our special case--that _we_ the rangers were to march on the following morning, was well known to the people of the neighbourhood. It had been known to them for several days; and it had not passed unobserved by us that the citizens of the place--those who were not Ayankieados--had lately shown themselves more sulky and inhospitable, in proportion as the time approached for our departure. This _brusquerie_ had led to several street-conflicts, in which knives had been drawn and blood spilled, and much "bad blood" begotten on both sides.

Another circumstance was not unnoticed amongst us. Ribald pasquinades, rudely written, and accompanied by threats of proscription, were at this time thrust under the doors of such of the citizens as had been friendly to us. Even the alcalde had received some documents of this character-- perhaps emanating from a jealous _tiendero_ who had looked with bitter eye upon the courtship of Wheatley and Conchita. It was not till afterwards I learned that similar missives had "come to hand" in a quarter that more concerned myself.

Some scouted the absurdity of these acts--alleging that they sprung from personal enmity, or originated in the mob-patriotism of the _leperos_.

It was not so, as we afterwards learned; the government of the country-- or, at all events, several of its prominent members--countenanced the meanness; and at their instigation, a "black list" was made out in every town and village through which the American army had occasion to pass.

Let the minister, Senor O--, make answer to this accusation.

I was musing on this disagreeable theme, after my return from the cerro, and endeavouring to sketch out some plan for the safety of my betrothed during my absence; but my thoughts proved barren.

With a sort of faint hope that the villain Ijurra might yet fall into our hands, I had despatched Holingsworth--nothing loath for the duty-- with a party of rangers upon his trail, and I was impatiently awaiting their return.

The voice of Wheatley aroused me from my reverie.

"Well, lieutenant, what is it?"

"Only that precious boy," answered he, with a significant smile, at the same time ushering "Cyprio" into the room.

The lad carried a note, which I opened. A green sprig of juniper was enclosed, and the simple word "_tuya_" was written in pencil.

I knew the symbol well. The juniper is _tuya_ in that most beautiful of tongues, and _tuya_ from a lady signifies "yours."

"Anything more?" I asked of the messenger.

"Nothing, Senor Capitan," answered the intelligent boy; "only to inquire if you had arrived safe."

She had been anxious then!

I separated the branchlet into two equal parts: one I placed in my bosom; the other, having fervently kissed, I enclosed in a folded sheet, upon which I wrote the words--

"_Tuyo_--_tuyo_--_hasta la muerte_!"