When supper was over, and the wine vessel taken away, the painter, after a few minutes' conversation, wished his guest a cordial good night, and withdrew. The latter, as soon as he was alone, changed his mantle into a mattress--that is to say, he stretched it on the table, laid himself down on it, enveloped himself carefully in it, and slept. He could not have told how long he had been sleeping, when all of a sudden he was rudely awakened by cries of fright and of rage raised at a little distance from him, and with which were almost immediately mingled several shots. M. Dubois rose in the utmost anxiety, and rushed out to discover the cause of this extraordinary tumult. CHAPTER XVII. THE PEONS. A strange spectacle, and which he was certainly far from expecting, offered itself to his astonished eyes. The platform, or rather the court situated before the rancho, was occupied by some twenty individuals, who were crying out and gesticulating with fury, and in the midst of whom was the painter, his head uncovered, his hair flying in the wind, his right foot placed on his gun, which had been thrown on the ground before him, and a pistol in each hand. Behind the young man, five or six Indians, his servants, with their guns at their shoulders, ready to fire. At the door of the shed the loaded mules and the saddled horses were held by two or three Indians armed with guns and sabres. By the light of the torches, the red flames of which threw out a strange reflection, the scene assumed a fantastic appearance of a remarkable character, rudely contrasting with the profound darkness which reigned on the plain, and which the varying light of the torches illuminated at each gust of the night wind. The old man, without seeking an explanation of this mournful drama, but instinctively understanding that something was passing in which he was personally interested, darted forward boldly to the side of his young companion. "What is it?" he cried. "Are we attacked?" "Yes," quickly answered the young man; "we are attacked, but by your peons (attendants)." "By my attendants!" exclaimed M. Dubois. "It would appear that these worthy gauchos have found your baggage suit them, and that the idea has occurred to them to seize upon it--that is all. It is very simple, you see. But let me act; they are not going to succeed as easily as they think." "Perhaps, if I were to speak to them?" ventured the old man. "Not a word, not a gesture; leave that to me. You are my guest; my duty is to defend you, and, God aiding me, so long as you shall be under my roof, I will defend you, come what may, against everything."