BRIGANDS AND BRIGANDAGE

Brigandage, the form of organised highway robbery practised by bands of thieves in countries where roads are long and lonely and imperfectly guarded, has been always popular with the Latin races. It suited the tastes and temperament of reckless people who defied the law and laughed at the attempt to protect defenceless wayfarers. Their activity was stimulated by the long wastes of rugged country that separated the towns, giving harbourage and security to the robbers who issued forth to prey upon travellers and easily retired to their rocky fastnesses and escaped pursuit. These Ishmaelites have been especially active in Spain and Italy and the aggressive spirit that moved them is not yet entirely extinct. More settled government has produced a more effective police in these latter days, but acts of brigandage in its latest development, that of "holding up" modern means of conveyance, express trains, bicycles and motor cars, have occurred, and may be reasonably expected to increase.

Brigandage is as old as the hills in Spain and some of its earliest phases are well worth describing before they are forgotten or replaced by newer processes. We may look back and gather some idea of those early days in Spain.

When Isabella, the Catholic, ascended the throne of Castile, she was called upon to govern a country profoundly demoralised, infested with evil doers and dominated by a turbulent and vicious nobility. The throne was an object of contempt, the treasury empty, the people poverty stricken, and the princes of the Church rebellious and rejoicing in large revenues. A lawless aristocracy hungry for independent authority were fighting for their own lands or conspiring secretly to overawe the Crown. Titled alcaldes, traitors and rebels, openly raised brigandage into a system, exacted tribute by blackmail from the lower classes, and made unceasing war upon the higher. Within the kingdom a rival pretender aimed at the Crown. One near neighbour, Alfonso V of Portugal, menaced the peace of the country and kept an army on the frontier; another, Louis XI of France, crafty and unscrupulous, constantly threatened war and held his army in Guipuscoa.

In a few short years the whole aspect of the country was changed. Isabella brought her rebellious nobles to their knees, all of them asking pardon and promising allegiance; the French army withdrew hastily to France; the Portuguese was defeated and expelled; the claimant to the throne was imprisoned and numbers of high-born criminals suffered on the scaffold. The great ecclesiastics disgorged much of their wealth to buy forgiveness, the robber haunts were attacked and destroyed, the high-roads became perfectly safe, thieves and highwaymen took to honest labour. Now the revenue was largely improved, the law was respected, crime was actively pursued and rigorously punished. But for the terrors and cruelties practised by the Inquisition, Spain would have enjoyed unbroken domestic peace and all the benefits accruing from general good government. These satisfactory results were largely achieved by the excellent police organised by Isabella and her husband, Ferdinand. The revival and consolidation of the "Santa Hermandad" or Holy Brotherhood which had always existed in the country districts to secure peace and tranquillity, but heretofore wielding smaller powers, worked wonders. A comprehensive system was now introduced by which all parts were patrolled by well-armed guardians of the law, mounted and on foot, who checked, prevented or punished misdeeds. In every collection of thirty houses or more two officials were appointed to deal with all offenders according to a strict code. Every thief when taken was punished with fine, flogging and exile, in penalties proportioned to the amount stolen. For more heinous offences his ears were cut off and he got a hundred lashes, or yet again one of his feet was amputated and he was peremptorily forbidden to ride on a horse or mule at peril of his life. A sentence of death was carried out by shooting with arrows.

This ancient Hermandad was at one time revived in the Migueletes, a body of men organised early in the nineteenth century to act as escorts to private travellers, as the regular mails and diligences were under the protection of troops provided by the Government. The Migueletes were a semi-military force composed of picked youths of courageous conduct, wearing uniform and armed with a short gun, with a sword, a single pistol and carrying a cord by which to secure their prisoners. The Migueletes took their name from one Miguel de Pratz, who had been a lieutenant of Caesar Borgia. They were often recruited from the robbers who were offered service as a condition of pardon when captured, and afterwards behaved admirably. No one with an escort of ten or twelve Migueletes need fear attack.

The mail coach was sometimes attacked, and on one occasion was stopped at Almuwadiel outside Madrid. It carried several passengers, among others an Englishman, a German artist and a Spaniard. At the first appearance of the brigands, the guard threw himself on the ground with his face in the mud and the postillions did the same. When summoned to deliver up their possessions, the Englishman gave up his well filled purse and was warmly thanked; the German artist would have been ill-treated as a punishment for his empty pockets, but was spared when his poverty was explained; the Spaniard was caught attempting to conceal his valuables in the carriage lining and narrowly escaped a beating. The coach was at last permitted to proceed and at parting the leader of the band shook hands with the Englishman and said he was a real gentleman, the German was ignored and the Spaniard was sharply taken to task for his attempted "fraud."

To this period (1825-35) belongs the famous brigand, JosÉ Maria, the Spanish Fra Diavolo, whose name is still remembered in the "Serrania" or mountain country of Ronda and throughout Southern Andalusia, for his daring robberies and continual defiance of the authorities. A "pass" or safe conduct granted by him was a better protection than any official escort. So great was his power that he was known by the proud title of "El SeÑor del Campo" (the lord of the country), and he ruled more absolutely in Andalusia than King Ferdinand in Spain. Travellers paid him a head tax, blackmail was levied on all public conveyances and, as has been said, he issued passports at a price to all who chose to pay for his protection. Strong bodies of troops were sent against him, but he managed always to elude or oppose them successfully.

JosÉ Maria started in life as a small cultivator in a village near Antequera, but, unable to earn a decent living, he took to the more profitable business of smuggling, a profession greatly honoured and esteemed in Spain. In one of his operations he was drawn into an affray with the soldiers and unfortunately shot and killed one of them. He at once fled to the mountains, where he was soon surrounded by other no less reckless companions, all of them outlaws like himself, and became the chief and centre of the band which soon spread terror throughout Southern Spain. His headquarters were in the rugged and lofty mountain district of Ronda near the little town of Grazalema, but he was ubiquitous in his rapid movements and traversed the whole of Andalusia. A story is preserved of an English nobleman who travelled to Spain for the express purpose of making his acquaintance but long sought him in vain in his favourite haunts and much disappointed retraced his steps to Madrid. But on the road between Carmona and Ecija[23] he had the questionable good fortune to meet JosÉ Maria in person, who thanked him courteously for the compliment he had paid him in seeking an interview, in return for which he proceeded to relieve his lordship of his valuables and his baggage so that he might continue his journey without encumbrance. He had many ways of levying contributions. One was to send a messenger to some landed proprietor, demanding a large sum of money, and declaring that if it was not paid he would swoop down to lay waste his lands and burn his house over his head. Another plan was to take post with his gang, all of them well mounted and fully armed, on the highroad just outside some populous city, and "hold up" every one who passed in or out, seizing all ready money and carrying off to some secret fastness all persons known to possess means.

English officers, part of the garrison of the Rock of Gibraltar, did not escape the exactions of JosÉ Maria. Once a shooting party in the woods near Gibraltar was suddenly attacked and captured, but after the first surprise they showed fight and a brigand was wounded. The lives of all of them were in danger but were saved on the persuasion of JosÉ Maria that they would be more valuable as prisoners for whom a large ransom would be obtained than as corpses. One of the party was accordingly sent to the Rock to procure the money while the rest were detained as hostages for his return at a certain hour the next day. The messenger was warned that if a rescue was attempted, the whole of the prisoners would be instantly massacred. He reached the Rock after gunfire, but the gates were presently especially opened to admit him, the money was collected, not without difficulty, and was conveyed to the brigands in sufficient time to secure the release of the captives. For some time later English officers were forbidden to go into Spain except in sufficient numbers to set the brigands at defiance. In quite recent years (1871) two gentlemen, natives of the Rock, were carried off and detained until a large ransom was paid.

JosÉ Maria dominated the country for nearly ten years. The secret of his long continued impunity may be traced to the fact that many of the local authorities, influenced either by fear or interest, were in collusion with him, and that the peasantry all wished him success; for, as he never oppressed them, but assisted and protected their smuggling transactions in which they are nearly all, in one way or other, engaged by opposing the regular troops, he was greatly beloved and venerated. He was in fact regarded as a hero; for such a life, wild and adventurous, where there is plenty of plunder and no laborious duty, has wondrous charms in the eyes of the lower Andalusians, by whom the laws of meum and tuum have never been well understood. How long JosÉ might have continued in power it is impossible to say, but like some other great personages he chose to abdicate. In 1833, he made his own terms with the Queen's government, agreeing to break up his band on condition of receiving an indulto, or pardon for all past offences, and a salaried appointment as an officer of Migueletes, or "police." He did not long exercise this honest calling, for soon after, when attempting to secure some of his former comrades who had taken refuge in a farmhouse, he was shot dead as he burst open the door.

With all his bad qualities, JosÉ had some of a redeeming character. Among these were his kindness to his female prisoners, his generosity to the poor, and his forbearance, for he frequently restrained his troop from acts of violence, and displayed on occasions a certain chivalrous nobility of character, hardly to be expected from a robber. In person he was very small, scarcely more than five feet in height, with bowed legs; but he was stout, strong and active and made amends in boldness, determination and talent for his physical deficiencies. His success and the long continued control which he exercised over the lawless fellows who composed his band proved that he possessed the difficult art of command. His courage indeed was proverbial. As an instance of it, it is reported that he once ventured into the presence of the Prime Minister at Madrid and dared to beard him in his own house.

Brigandage has not wholly disappeared in Spain although it no longer exists on the grand scale of former days when the mountain passes and lesser highways were infested by robber bands led by daring and unscrupulous chiefs who stopped travellers, blackmailed landed proprietors and carried off country folk whom they held to ransom often for considerable sums. To-day, if the knights of the road are still to be met with occasionally, they are for the most part paltry pilferers bent on stealing small sums from the poorer folk returning from market, or in rare cases holding up some solitary vehicle and its defenceless passengers. These are of the type of the old fashioned salteadores or "jumpers," so named because they jumped out from behind a rock and dropped suddenly on their prey with the old peremptory summons of "Boca abajo!" "Boca À tierra!" "Faces down! Mouth to the ground!" The cry may still be heard, and it means mischief when backed as of old by the muzzle of a gun protruding from the bushes in some narrow pass or defile. They are courageous too, these Spanish road agents, ready to fight at need as well as to rob, to overbear resistance and to meet the officers of the law with their own weapons. A story is told of one daring ruffian, Rullo de Zancayro, who, in 1859, murdered the alcalde of his village and was followed by two guardias civiles. At the end of a long chase they went too near some brushwood, when one was shot dead and the fugitive made good his escape.

In the year 1870 brigandage was general throughout Spain, but the heart and centre of it was the province of Andalusia, with branches and ramifications everywhere, spreading dismay and apprehension among all peaceable people. This was in the interregnum that followed the revolution which drove Queen Isabella from the throne. There was safety for no one. Respectable landowners dared not visit nor reside upon their estates for fear of attack, dreading robbery with violence or seizure of their persons, and they constantly received threatening letters demanding the purchase of immunity on the payment of considerable sums. The roads were more than ever insecure, trains and diligences were repeatedly held up, and small parties of travellers or solitary wayfarers were certain to be laid under contribution. It was claimed that the guardias civiles, the fine rural police, were no longer active but were diverted from their legitimate duties by political party leaders in power. So many bitter complaints, so many indignant demands for protection, reached the central government in Madrid, that the authorities resolved to put down brigandage with a strong hand. A new governor of Cordova was appointed, a man of vigour and determination, armed with full powers to purge the province of its desperadoes.

The choice fell upon Don Julian de Zugasti y Saenz, who had been a member of the Cortes and employed as civil administrator, first as governor of Teruel, where he had restored order in a period of grave disorder, and at Burgos, where he had laid bare a formidable conspiracy against the government. When Zugasti undertook the task, it was high time to adopt energetic measures. There was no security for life or property as robberies on a large scale were perpetrated both in town and country. Well-to-do citizens were seized in the public streets and carried off to sequestration; farmers and cultivators were compelled to share their produce, their harvests, and their herds with the brigands who swooped down on them; the police were impotent or too much overawed to interfere in the interest of honest folk. The prevailing anarchy and widespread lawlessness were a disgrace to any country that called itself civilised. Zugasti did a great work in restoring order and giving security to the disturbed districts. The whole story is told at some length in his book on "Bandolerismo,"[24] which deals with brigandage in Spain from its very beginnings, describing the principal feats of the banditti.

At the outset he was faced with a most difficult situation. Crimes in great number had been committed with impunity. Many of their perpetrators were wholly hidden from the authorities, while others were perfectly well known. A crowd of spies were ever on the watch and ready, whether from greed or to curry favour, with abundant information of openings that offered for attempts at crime. On the other hand the guardias civiles were greatly discouraged and far too weak in numbers for the

onerous duties they were expected to perform. Judges were dishonest and had been known to accept bribes, the ordinary police were torpid, nearly useless and generally despised. A complete reform in the administration of justice was a crying need, as the power and authority of the law were completely broken down.

The new governor was helpless and handicapped on every side. His representations to the government for support were but coldly received and he had to rely on such scanty means as he had at hand. He looked carefully into the character of all police employÉs and dismissed all of doubtful reputation. He established a system of supplying the guardias civiles at all stations with photographs of criminals at large whom they could identify and arrest, and insisted on strictly revising the permits issued to carry arms, allowing none but respectable persons to do so. The prohibition was extended to all kinds of knives, many of them murderous weapons of the well known type. The quarters of all evil doers he heard of were broken up, including the farm which had come to be called Ceuta because it harboured a mob of ex-convicts, escaped prisoners who were eager to resume their depredations by joining themselves to the plans and projects of others.

These active measures were bitterly resented and vigorously resisted by all evil doers, who went so far as to seek the removal of the governor, and it was falsely announced in more than one newspaper that he had sent in his resignation. The disastrous consequence was the immediate revival of brigandage in various forms. Horses and cattle were once more stolen in the open country and a house in the town of Estado was broken into and a large amount in cash and securities with much valuable jewelry was seized. At the same time ten prisoners escaped in a body from the gaol of that city. On the highroad between Posadas and Villaviciosa, seven armed men robbed nineteen travellers, and a party had the audacity to carry off a child of nine and hold him to ransom. The police and well-disposed people were greatly disheartened, the guardias civiles, which had done excellent service in capturing more than a hundred prisoners in a short time, slackened in their endeavours, while the municipal police, which had forty captures to its credit, also held their hand. The whole situation was greatly aggravated and crime gained the ascendancy. But Zugasti rose to the occasion, publicly denied the report of his resignation; the government published a complimentary decree commending his conduct, and his pursuit of wrong doers was continued with renewed energy. Naturally he incurred the bitterest hostility and went constantly in danger of his life. He received anonymous letters containing the most bloodthirsty threats and was warned by his friends that they could not possibly support or protect him. Undeterred he held his way, bravely and wisely organised an association akin to the "Regulators" of the wild days in the Western States of the United States to patrol the country and insure the general safety, and employed a large force of secret police agents to perambulate the country, keeping close watch upon suspicious persons, travelling by all trains, patrolling all roads, visiting taverns in low quarters, entering the prisons in disguise and gaining the confidence of the fellow prisoners. Zugasti himself spent long periods in the various gaols, observing, investigating and interviewing notable offenders.

The thoroughness of his proceedings might be gathered from the choice he made of his agents. One of the most useful was an idiot boy, whose weak-mindedness was relieved by some glimmerings of sense and who passed entirely unsuspected by those upon whom he spied. His foolish talk and silly ways gained him ready admission into cafÉs and clubs, where he was laughed at and treated as a butt upon whom food, drink and unlimited cigars were generously bestowed. He had the gift of remaining wide awake while seeming to be sound asleep, his ears ever on the stretch to pick up compromising facts which were openly mentioned before him. He had also a prodigious memory and seldom forgot what he heard, storing up everything to be produced later when he attended upon the governor. In this way Zugasti often heard of crimes almost as soon as they were planned, and could hunt up their perpetrators without delay. On one occasion a mysterious crime was unravelled by placing the idiot in the same cell with two of the suspected actors, who entirely believed in the imbecility of their cell companion and unguardedly revealed the true inwardness of the whole affair.

The ladron en grande, the "robber chief" at the head of a numerous band, is still to be met with, although rarely representing the type of the famous JosÉ Maria. These leaders rose to the command of their lawless fellows by force of superior will, and they were unhesitatingly obeyed and followed with reckless devotion in the constant commission of crime. One or two noted specimens have survived till to-day and some account of them may be extracted from recent records.

Vizco el Borje was long a terror to the peaceable people in northern Andalusia. He was originally an officer of carabineros, the "custom house" regiment of Spain, but had been, in his own judgment, unjustly dismissed and found himself deprived of the means of subsistence. Falling lower and lower, step by step he became an outcast, an Ishmaelite consumed with an intense hatred of all social arrangements, with his hand against every man. He began business as a smuggler and soon took to worse, following the Spanish proverb:—

"There is only one short step from smuggler to thief," and Vizco quickly crossed the narrow space and became a notorious criminal. He carried on the war against law and order with constantly increasing recklessness and more and more daring outrages. His strong personal character, his iron will, his unbounded courage and boldness gave him a great ascendancy over the men who collected around him and who served him with the greatest loyalty and unstinting effort. One of his exploits may be quoted at some length as exhibiting his methods and the success that generally attended them.

A certain landowner, Don Pedro de M——, whose estates were in the neighbourhood of the mountain village of Zahrita, was in the habit of providing bulls free of charge for the amusement of the villagers, at the annual festival of their patron saint. Amateur bull fighters are always to be found to take part in the performance of a novillos, or game with young bulls. Don Pedro like many of his class was also an aficionado, an amateur devoted to bull fighting, and he loved to pick out himself the animals he gave from his herds, trying first their temper and their aptitude for the so-called sport of tauromaquia. He was thus engaged, assisted by his steward and a herdsman, and had dismounted with the steward to walk round the herd, when the ominous cry was raised, "Boca abajo!" and they found themselves covered by the rifles of three brigands who had crept upon them unobserved. Resistance was hopeless, though they also were armed, for their guns hung at the saddles of their horses, which they led at the full length of their reins, and to have made any hostile move would have drawn down a murderous fire. The chance soon passed, for one of the robbers quickly took possession of both horses and guns. The seizure was complete and the captors proceeded to carry off their prize.

All remounted by order of the chief of the band, who took the lead, and the party started in single file along the narrow mountain path, an armed escort bringing up the rear. They made straight for the upper sierra, avoiding the frequented track until they reached a dense thicket, where a halt was called and a scout sent on ahead. After an interchange of whistled signals, nine other horsemen rode up, the two prisoners were ordered to dismount, their eyes closely bandaged, and they were warned that their lives depended upon their implicit obedience to the orders they received. Then the march was resumed. The road led constantly upward, becoming more and more rugged and precipitous till from the utter absence of brushwood and the stumbling of their horses they knew that they were climbing through a mountainous region. Another halt was called, all again dismounted, and the prisoners were led on foot along a narrow passage, that from the echoing sounds and the closeness of the air evidently penetrated far into the hill. It opened presently into an extensive cavern, probably the long-abandoned workings of some ancient Roman mine. Here their bandages were removed and Don Pedro saw that he was in the presence of the three bandits who had first made him prisoner. The cave contained nothing but a few empty boxes, on one of which was a light, a flickering wick in a saucerful of oil. Another box was offered Don Pedro as a seat, writing materials were produced and he was desired to write from dictation as follows:—

Here the prisoner stopped short and point blank refused to demand so large a sum, declaring that to pay it his brothers would be robbed of their patrimony and that he had no right to ask even when his life was at stake for more than his individual share as one member of a large family. It was a fair argument and he held out so staunchly that the brigand was pleased to reduce the demand to six thousand dollars. The letter conveying these terms was then completed, signed and delivered to Diego, who was told to make the best of his way to Xeres, and as dawn had now broken he had no difficulty in finding the road.

Don Pedro was hospitably entertained. A wine skin (borracha) was broached and a plentiful supper laid out. The day was spent in sleep, but at nightfall the march was resumed. The prisoner was once more blindfolded, the weary pilgrimage, halting by day, travelling by night for three nights in succession, was resumed. On one occasion he seemed near rescue. A cry of "Civiles! Civiles!" was raised, an alarm of the near approach of the much dreaded guardias civiles. Orders were promptly issued to prepare for action. The brigands closed their ranks, sent their prisoner to the rear and took post to open fire. In the confusion Don Pedro, keenly alert for the deliverance that seemed so near, managed to lift the bandage over his eyes sufficiently to peep around. The party stood on a narrow ledge of the mountain side, straight cliff above, sheer drop below: movement forward or back was alone feasible. Meanwhile the increasing clatter of hoofs betrayed the enemy's approach, nearer and nearer, and the brigands barring the narrow road hoped to take them at a disadvantage and, after shooting them down, make good their retreat. But the sight of the first horse showed that it had been a false alarm. These were not "Civiles" but "Contrabandistas," smugglers not policemen, friends not foes. A long train of animals, heavily laden with goods that had paid no duty, were being guided across the mountains. Don Pedro's hopes were crushed out of him when he heard the interchange of friendly greetings: "Muy buenas noches!" on one side and "Vayan ustedes con Dios," on the other; "Good night!" and "Go in God's keeping," and room was made by the robbers for the safe passage of the smuggling train.

On the third day news came that the authorities were on the alert and it would be unsafe to meet the messenger returning on his white donkey. Another tryst was therefore appointed. Don Pedro's father was desired to send half the whole sum demanded to Grazalema and the other half was carried by a man on the white donkey to a lonely spot among the hills. The father started in person on the long ride from Xeres to Grazalema weighted with three thousand dollars in cash, reached his destination safely but remained there for a couple of days tortured with suspense. On the third morning he was approached by a man leading a pony laden with rolls of the rough brown cloth manufactured in Grazalema, who said under his breath as he passed, "Follow me." The peddler led the way to a small draper's shop where the same cloth was exposed for sale and, dismounting, passed into the back premises, where another man, also a peddler, was seated waiting. This was Vizco el Borje himself, who at once asked for the money, producing Don Pedro's pencil case as his credentials. The dollars had been sewn for security into the pack saddle of the pony which had brought the old man, and they were extracted, counted and handed over. Vizco forthwith climbed on top of the pile of cloth carried by his own mount and rode boldly out of the town.

Meanwhile Diego, the steward on the white donkey, with the remaining three thousand dollars patiently hung about the mountain lair to which he had been directed, and at last encountered a goatherd at the entrance of the village, who told him to ride on till he met a woman dressed in black seated by the side of a well. "She will ask you the time, and you will answer twelve o'clock, at which she will guide you to the spot where you are expected." It was a cavern in the hill and he was met there by his young master Don Pedro safe and sound. The money was handed over, but no release was permitted until news came of the delivery of the other half, when the prisoners were guided to a path familiar to them and they were free to return home. Next evening they rode into Xeres after a captivity of fifteen days.

The end of Vizco el Borje was such as might be expected. He was shot down by the guardias civiles. For a long time he carried his life in his hands and had many hairbreadth escapes, saved always by his fine pluck and resourcefulness. At last the authorities had positive information of his whereabouts, gained through treachery, and he was surrendered. He made a gallant defence, but his retreat was cut off and he was soon overpowered. When he fell his body had been pierced by five rifle bullets.

Another type of brigand was Agua Dulce, who worked on a much smaller scale, but was long a terror in the neighbourhood of Xeres. He was a mean, contemptible ruffian who preyed upon charcoal burners, poor travellers, carriers and workmen returning home with their hard earned wages. He had one narrow escape. After securing an unusually large sum, the equivalent of £600, all in small coins, he was caught dividing these with two accomplices in a wine shop. His arrest and imprisonment followed. When called upon to account for his possession of the gold, Agua Dulce explained that he had got it in the course of a business transaction in Seville and was removed to that city for trial, where he was acquitted, although little doubt was entertained of his guilt.

For years he continued his depredations, committing for the most part small thefts and petty larcenies. Now and again he made bold coups, as when, under threat of damaging a herd of valuable mares, he extorted three thousand dollars from a lady who raised horses. He levied a thousand dollars on another landowner by using the same menace and a third gentleman, who had stoutly refused to be blackmailed and who owned a large drove of donkeys, found them all with their throats cut lying by the high road. When his misdeeds became too numerous to be borne the municipal guard of Gorez swore to put an end to him. A hot pursuit was organised and he was found at a ford near a wood belonging to the Duke of San Lorenzo, where he was caught hiding among the trees. Two guards opened fire, which was returned, with the result that one guard was killed and one robber. Agua Dulce, who was still alive, got into the covert, and shots were again and again exchanged, ending in the destruction of the brigand.

A later affair with brigands occurred at Gibraltar in 1870, when two gentlemen, natives of the Rock, much given to hunting and taking long rides in the neighbourhood, were waylaid and made prisoners. They were carried off to a lonely house in the hills near Ronda and detained for ransom, which was advanced by the British government through the governor of the fortress of Gibraltar, and eventually repaid by the Spanish authorities. After the money had been paid over the guardias civiles intercepted the robbers and shot them down.