ing recent Spanish wars, caused the rocks and ravines of their
native province to ring again.

"_Hijo de zorra!_" muttered the soldier, enraged beyond endurance by
this last taunt; and drawing back his right arm, he dealt so heavy and
unexpected a blow upon the breast of the muleteer that the latter
reeled a couple of paces backwards, and then fell headlong and with
considerable violence to the ground. The dragoon gazed for an instant
at the fallen man, as if expecting him to rise and attack him in turn;
but, seeing that he did not do so, he turned round and walked slowly
in the direction of his charger.

He had taken but a few steps when the Navarrese sprang to his feet,
and thrust his hand into the red sash which girded his waist, as
though seeking a weapon. He found none, and, instantly darting
forward, he passed the soldier, and reached his mules a moment sooner
than the former did his horse. The next instant a long brown barrel
was projected across the packsaddles, and behind it was seen the blue
cap and pale countenance of Paco, who, with glittering eye and face
livid from fury, was taking a deadly aim at the soldier, now standing
beside the shoulder of his charger. Without a moment's hesitation the
Navarrese pulled the trigger. As he did so, the dragoon, suddenly
aware of his danger, threw himself on one side, and at the same time
his horse, either startled by the movement or tormented by a fly,
tossed his head violently up and backwards. The muleteer's bullet,
intended for the rider, entered the brain of the steed. There was a
convulsive quivering of the animal's whole frame, and then, before the
smoke cleared away, the horse fell over so heavily and suddenly that
he bore down Velasquez under him. The soldier lay with the whole
weight of the expiring animal resting upon his legs and thighs; and,
before he could make an attempt to extricate himself, the Navarrese,
with a large dagger-shaped knife gleaming in his hand, sprang across
the space that separated him from his antagonist. The fate of the
latter would speedily have been decided, had not the innkeeper, his
wife, and the two young men, who had been observing with much
interest these rapidly occurring incidents, thrown themselves between
Paco and the object of his wrath.

"Out of the way!" roared the infuriated muleteer. "He has struck me,
and by the Holy Trinity I will have his blood. He has struck _me_, a
free Navarrese!" repeated he, striking his own b