Throughout the whole of that long and dreary night, the--wanderers rode on incessantly, and found themselves at daybreak near a farm-house: this was Lara’s own home. They made the peasant Lara knock; his own brother opened the door. Fearful as they were of the detection to which so numerous a party might conduce, only Riego, another officer (Don Luis de Sylva), and Falkland entered the house. The latter, whom nothing ever seemed to render weary or forgetful, fixed his cold stern eye upon the two brothers, and, seeing some signs pass between them, locked the door, and so prevented their escape. For a few hours they reposed in the stables with their horses, their drawn swords by their sides. On waking, Riego found it absolutely necessary that his horse should be shod. Lopez started up, and offered to lead it to Arguillas for that purpose. “No,” said Riego, who, though naturally imprudent, partook in this instance of Falkland’s habitual caution: “your brother shall go and bring hither the farrier.” Accordingly the brother went: he soon returned. “The farrier,” he said, “was already on the road.” Riego and his companions, who were absolutely fainting with hunger, sat down to breakfast; but Falkland, who had finished first, and who had eyed the man since his return with the most scrutinising attention, withdrew towards the window, looking out from time to time with a telescope which they had carried about them, and urging them impatiently to finish. “Why?” said Riego, “famished men are good for nothing, either to fight or fly--and we must wait for the farrier.” “True,” said Falkland, “but--” he stopped abruptly. Sylva had his eyes on his face at that moment. Falkland’s colour suddenly changed: he turned round with a loud cry. “Up! up! Riego! Sylva! We are undone--the soldiers are upon us!” “Arm!” cried Riego, starting up. At that moment Lopez and his brother seized their own carbines, and levelled them at the betrayed constitutionalists. “The first who moves,” cried the former, “is a dead man!” “Fools!” said Falkland, with a calm bitterness, advancing deliberately towards them. He moved only three steps--Lopez fired. Falkland staggered a few paces, recovered himself, sprang towards Lara, clove him at one blow from the skull to the jaw, and fell with his victim, lifeless upon the floor. “Enough!” said Riego to the remaining peasant; “we are your prisoners; bind us!” In two minutes more the soldiers entered, and they were conducted to Carolina. Fortunately Falkland was known, when at Paris, to a French officer of high rank then at Carolina. He was removed to the Frenchman’s quarters. Medical aid was instantly procured. The first examination of his wound was decisive; recovery was hopeless!