his features in my memory, so that I may know them
again, when I pursue him, to drag his living body after the heels of my
horse."

"If it is to promise me only such favours that you have called me out--"
said the bandit, making a motion to re-enter the chamber.

"Stay--hear me!" cried Don Rafael, interrupting him with a gesture;
"your life is safe. I have said it. Humanity has compelled me to spare
you."

"_Carrambo_! I am grateful, Captain; I know the act is to your taste."

"Gratitude from you would be an insult; but if in the red ditch-water
that runs through your heart there be a spark of courage, mount your
horse, choose what arms you please, and come forth. I defy you to
single combat!"

Don Rafael in pronouncing this challenge rose erect in his stirrups.
His countenance, noble and defiant, presented a strange contrast to the
aspect of vulgar ferocity that characterised the features of the man
thus addressed. The insult was point blank, and would have aroused the
veriest poltroon; but Arroyo possessed only the courage of the vulture.

"Indeed?" responded he, sneeringly. "Bah! do you suppose me such a fool
as to go down there? fifty to one!"

"I pledge my honour, as a gentleman," continued the captain, "as an
officer, in the presence of his soldiers; as a Christian, in the
presence of his God--that whatever may be the issue of the combat--that
is, if I succumb--no harm shall happen to you."

For a moment the bandit appeared to hesitate. One might have fancied
that he was calculating the chances of an encounter. But the address
and valour of the dragoon captain were known to him by too many proofs,
to allow him to reckon many chances in his favour. He dared not risk
the combat.

"I refuse," he said, at length.

"Mount your horse. I shall abandon mine, and fight you on foot."

"_Demonio_! I refuse, I tell you."

"Enough. I might have known it. One word more then, I shall still
agree to your life being spared. I solemnly promise it, if you will
allow the inmates of this hacienda to leave the place, and put
themselves under the safeguard of a loyal enemy."

"I refuse again," said the bandit, with a demoniac sneer.

"Away, poltroon! you are less than man; and, by the God of vengeance,
when this hand clutches you, you shall not die as a man, but as a mad
dog."

After delivering this terrible adieu, the captain put spurs to his
horse, turning his back upon the bandit with a gesture of the