from the other direction, evidently a patrol attracted by the outcries of the musicians and by the tumult of the fight.
Pulling his hat over his eyes and throwing his cloak over the lower part of his face to avoid recognition and regardless of the danger, Don Garcia rushed in among the men, hoping to find the sword, which would have undoubtedly identified the murderer. Don Juan saw him strike right and left, putting out the lights and overturning all who happened to be in his path. He reappeared soon, running as fast as he could, and holding a sword in each hand, the entire patrol pursuing him.
"Ah! Don Garcia," exclaimed Don Juan, taking the sword held out to him, "how can I ever thank you!"
"Let us fly, fly!" cried Don Garcia. "Follow me, and if one of those rascals presses you too closely stick him as you did the other one just now."
Both then started to run with all the speed imparted by their physical vigour, augmented by fear of the corregidor, an officer who was much more formidable to the students than to thieves.
Don Garcia, who knew Salamanca as well as he knew his Deus det, was remarkably skilful in rushing around the street corners and in dashing
