But the first moment of effervescence over, when he saw his men falling around him like ripe fruit, unrevenged, and without gaining an inch of ground, he resolved not to retreat, but to change the siege into a blockade, hoping to be more fortunate during the night by some bold _coup de main_, or, in the end, certain of reducing the besieged sooner or later by famine. He believed himself certain that they would find it impossible to obtain succour in the prairies, where there were none but Indians, hostile to the whites, whoever they might be, or trappers and hunters, who cared very little to intermeddle in affairs that did not at all concern them. His resolution once taken, the captain put it in execution immediately. He cast an anxious look around him; his situation was still the same; notwithstanding their almost superhuman efforts to climb the abrupt ascent which led to the entrenchments, the pirates had not gained a single step. The moment a man showed himself openly, a ball from a Mexican carbine sent him rolling down the precipice. The captain gave the signal for retreat; that is to say, he imitated the cry of the prairie dogs. The combat ceased instantly. The spot, which an instant before was animated by the cries of combatants and the continued report of firearms, sank suddenly into the completest silence. Only, as soon as the men had paused in their work of destruction, the condors, the vultures, and urubus commenced theirs. After pirates, birds of prey! that is according to the order of things. Swarms of condors, vultures, and urubus came hovering over the dead bodies, upon which they fell uttering sharp cries, and made a horrible carnage of human flesh, in sight of the Mexicans, who did not dare to leave their entrenchments, and were forced to remain spectators of this hideous banquet of the wild creatures. The pirates rallied in a ravine, out of reach of the fire, and counted their numbers. Their losses were enormous; out of forty, nineteen only remained. In less than an hour they had had twenty-one killed, more than half of their whole band. The Mexicans, with the exception of Captain Aguilar, had neither killed nor wounded. The loss the pirates had sustained made them reflect seriously upon the affair. The greater number were of opinion it would be best to retire, and give up an expedition which presented so many dangers and so few hopes of success. The captain was even more discouraged than his companions. Certes, if it had only been to gain gold or diamonds, he would, without hesitation, have resigned his projects; but a feeling more strong than the desire of wealth influenced his actions, and excited him to carry the adventure through, whatever might be the consequences to him. The treasure he coveted--a treasure of incalculable price--was Doña Luz, the girl whom he had, in Mexico, rescued from the hands of his own bandits, and for whom he entertained a violent, boundless, characteristic passion.