“‘What capital fellows they must be!’
“‘Crack troops, Tom; so don’t hurt them. And now, good-night.’
“As I cantered off, I began to think over O’Flaherty’s idea; and upon my life, I didn’t half like it. He was a reckless, devil-may-care fellow; and it was just as likely he would really put his scheme into practice.
“When morning broke, however, we got under way again, and I amused myself all the forenoon in detailing stories of French cruelty; so that before we had marched ten miles, there was not a man among us not ready to run at the slightest sound of attack on any side. As evening was falling we reached Morento, a little mountain pass which follows the course of a small river, and where, in many places, the mule carts had barely space enough to pass between the cliffs and the stream. ‘What a place for Tom O’Flaherty and his foragers!’ thought I, as we entered the little mountain gorge; but all was silent as the grave,—except the tramp of our party, not a sound was heard. There was something solemn and still in the great brown mountain, rising like vast walls on either side, with a narrow streak of gray sky at top and in the dark, sluggish stream, that seemed to awe us, and no one spoke. The muleteer ceased his merry song, and did not crack or flourish his long whip as before, but chid his beasts in a half-muttered voice, and urged them faster, to reach the village before nightfall.
“Egad, somehow I felt uncommonly uncomfortable; I could not divest my mind of the impression that some disaster was impending, and I wished O’Flaherty and his project in a very warm climate. ‘He’ll attack us,’ thought I, ‘where we can’t run; fair play forever. But if they are not able to get away, even the militia will fight.’ However, the evening crept on, and no sign of his coming appeared on any side; and to my sincere satisfaction, I could see, about half a league distant, the twinkling light of the little village where we were to halt for the night. It was just at this time that a scout I had sent out some few hundred yards in advance came galloping up, almost breathless.
“‘The French, Captain; the French are upon us!’ said he, with a face like a ghost.
“‘Whew! Which way? How many?’ said I, not at all sure that he might not be telling the truth.
“‘Coming in force!’ said the fellow. ‘Dragoons! By this road!’
“‘Dragoons? By this road?’ repeated every man of the party, looking at each other like men sentenced to be hanged.
“Scarcely had they spoken when we heard the distant noise of cavalry advancing at a brisk trot. Lord, what a scene ensued! The soldiers ran hither and thither like frightened sheep; some pulled out crucifixes and began to say their prayers; others fired off their muskets in a panic; the mule-drivers cut their traces, and endeavored to get away by riding; and the intendant took to his heels, screaming out to us, as he went, to fight manfully to the last, and that he’d report us favorably to the Junta.