The other negroes also were in the open by this time, yelling and firing as fast as they could work the bolts of their rifles, and although they aimed at nothing in particular, the effect of their fusillade was all that could be wished.  Cobo’s men, led by the terrified Pancho Cueto, turned and fled for cover, believing themselves in danger of annihilation.  Nor was the colonel himself in any condition to rally them, for Asensio’s blade had cloven one full dark cheek to the bone, and the shock and pain had unnerved him; he was frightened at sight of the blood that streamed down over the breast of his white tunic, and so, when he saw his men turn tail, he followed suit, lunging through the lush garden growth, holding his wound in his hand and shrieking profane commands which went unheeded.

The field was small, the jungle was close at hand.  A moment and the interlopers had vanished into it, all but one, who lay kicking among the broad malanga-leaves, and over whom Asensio kept spurring his terrified horse, hacking downward with insane fury.

This was the first hand-to-hand encounter Esteban’s men had had, and their swift victory rendered them ferocious.  Flinging their guns aside, they went crashing into the brush on the trail of their enemies.

Rosa found herself in her brother’s arms, sobbing out the story of the outrage and quivering at every sound of the chase.  He was caressing her, and telling her to have no further fears; both of them were fairly hysterical.  Even before Esteban had heard all, Lorenzo, the mulatto, reappeared, leading three cavalry horses and shouting extravagant praises of his own bravery.  Esteban complimented him and the fellow galloped away again, voicing the most blood-curdling threats.

Evangelina, thanks to her thick skull, was not dead.  In the course of time under Rosa’s and Esteban’s ministrations she regained her senses, and when the other men returned they found her lying sick and dazed, but otherwise quite whole.

Then, there beside the ruins of the hut, was a strange scene of rejoicing.  Asensio, recovered now from his burst of savagery, was tearful, compassionate; his comrades laughed and chattered and bragged about their prodigious deeds of valor.  Over and over they recounted their versions of the encounter, each more fanciful than the other, until it seemed that they must have left the forest filled with corpses.

Esteban alone was grave.  He had heard of Colonel Cobo, and, remembering that denim-clad figure out yonder in the trampled garden, he knew that serious consequences would follow.  The Volunteers were revengeful; their colonel was not the sort of man to forgive a deep humiliation.  Doubtless he would put a price upon the heads of all of them, and certainly he would never allow them another encounter upon anything like even terms.  Then, too, the narrowness of Rosa’s escape caused the boy’s heart to dissolve with terror.