the Carlists. Araquil was surprised when the first shots of the engagement reached his ears, the succeeding ones delighted him. As there was a battle on, Zucarraga would come forth, would lead his troops into the firing. If Juan could slip up to him it would soon be done: the knife to his heart, and in open conflict, this time, not in a cowardly ambush. Ah! so Zucarraga's blood was worth a fortune? Father Chegaray should have his two thousand douros—and so much the worse for the Carlists!
"It was a plucky fight that was fought that night. Garrido's troops were in earnest, they came up to the assault of the intrenchments with bayonets fixed and struck up against the Carlists, whom they thought to surprise, but who were on the alert. The murdering, the killing went on under the cover of the darkness of night. Breasts were pierced by bayonets, heads were broken by revolvers. The work of slaughter was carried on by men who were invisible to one another. And I say again, what a pity it is that such things should happen among Spaniards!
"And the bloody work went on for a long time. At early dawn the soldiers of the army were once again retreating, poor devils, and what frightful loss their attempt had cost them! The attack had been fruitless. A night of slaughter that only added another to their series of defeats. Old Garrido, down there in his camp, would shed fresh tears of rage. The Carlists, on the other hand, after having fought all night, saluted the dawn with their joyful shouts: Harri! Harri! Then all at once their shouts, their glee subsided, and a black silence fell upon them. Their invincible chieftain—he whose voice had been heard
