ades by the two tramps. She stumbled and fell. They were trying
to raise her when suddenly two shots rang out and both fell headlong.

"Simon! Antonio!" cried a voice.

Through the fray Simon saw Dolores, sitting erect on a horse all
covered with foam. Her rifle was levelled and she was firing. Three of
the nearest aggressors were struck. Simon contrived to break away, run
to Isabel and join Dolores, to whom Antonio at the same time was
bringing Lord Bakefield.

Thus the four were together again, but each was followed by the
rabble of persistent marauders, and these were reinforced by dozens of
others, who loomed out of the fog and doubtless imagined that the
stake in such a battle, in which the number of their opponents was so
small, must be the capture of some treasure.

"There are more than a hundred of them," said Antonio. "We are done
for."

"Saved!" cried Dolores, who now ceased firing.

"Why?"

"Yes, we must hold out . . . one minute. . . ."

Dolores' reply was drowned in the uproar. Their assailants came along
with a rush. With their backs against the horse, the little party
faced in all directions, firing, wounding, killing. With his left hand
Simon discharged his revolver, while with his right hand, which
gripped his rifle by the barrel, whirling it to terrible effect, he
held the enemy at a distance.

But how could they resist the torrent, continually renewed, that
rushed upon them. They were submerged. Old Lord Bakefield was struck
senseless with a stick; and one of Antonio's arms was paralysed by a
blow from a stone. Any further resistance was out of the question. The
hideous moment had come when people fall, when their flesh is
trampled underfoot and torn asunder by the enemy's claws.

"Isabel!" murmured Simon, crushing her passionately in his arms.

They dropped to their knees together. The beasts of prey fell upon
them, covering them with darkness.

A bugle sounded some distance away, scattering its lively notes upon
the air. Another call rang out in reply. It was a French bugle
sounding the charge.

A great silence, heavy with fear, petrified the hoardes of pillagers.
Simon, who was losing consciousness, felt that the weight above him
was lightened. Some of the beasts of prey were taking flight.

He half-raised himself, while supporting Isabel, and the first thing
that struck him was Antonio's attitude. The Indian, with drawn face,
was gazing at Dolores. Slowly and steadily he took a f