The lightning flared again, a long quivering stroke, and the heads of half a dozen men appeared at the crest of the _chevaux de frise_, not twenty feet away. But John Bedford looked at only one of them. He saw the swarthy, angry face of de Armijo. He seemed to be beckoning with his sword to his men, but a flash like that of the lightning seared John’s whole brain. He remembered how this man had struck him down, when he was chained and helpless, and he fired point blank at the angry face. De Armijo fell back with a terrible cry. He was not dead, but the bullet had plowed full length across his cheek, and he would bear there a terrible red weal all the rest of his life. The lightning passed, and they were in complete darkness, but John felt a hand on his arm. "Come," whispered his rescuer. "You did that well. Prison hasn’t taken any of the manhood from you. We’re outside everything now, and the others are waiting for us." They fled away together in the darkness. CHAPTER XVIII THE HUT IN THE COVE John Bedford forgot everything in those moments of wild exultation save the fact that he was free. The miracles had begun, and the whole chain was now complete. After three years in one cell he had left behind him forever, as he believed, the Castle of Montevideo, and he was going straight to his brother and powerful friends. He cast back only a single look, and then he saw the huge dim bulk of the castle showing through the mists and the rain. But presently the woods shut it from view, and he could not have seen it had he looked again. John’s exultation, the vast rebound, grew. He had escaped, and he had struck down the enemy who had struck him. He felt equal to anything, and he forgot for the moment that the man who had rescued him in such an extraordinary way was wounded. But the man himself stopped soon. "We’ll wait here, Sir John of the Fleet Foot," he said. "Our friends who are frolicking in this thorny Forest of Arden were to come if they heard the sound of firing, and we must not go far away lest we miss them. Truly that was a fine and timely shot of yours, Sir John of the Bold Escape, and I judged by the look of your face that you had no love for the man at whom you fired." "I did not," replied John. "He beat me, when I was in chains." The other man uttered a low whistle. "That was a nasty thing to do, but you are even. If he’s still alive he’ll have a face that will scare a dog. "Whate’er you do Unto another, Some day that other Will do unto you. "Bear that in mind, young sir. In the hour of triumph do not rejoice too much in the fall of the man who has failed, because when he achieves his triumph and you have failed, which is likely to come to pass some time or other, he may make some moments exceedingly bitter unto thee. And now I shall dress myself, as I think I hear the footsteps of visitors."