They had reached the valley of the Rimac. From the dense underbrush on each side darted birds; the cries of others sounded. A silver thread shone between an opening in the woods ahead, and in another minute the road turned more to the east, commenced to follow the wanderings of the river, and became no longer level but slightly up grade.
“Halt!” said General Matajente, and when they had drawn rein he added: “A five minutes’ rest now may be worth a mile of extra speed later. Everybody dismount! Now let’s lead the animals to the bank and let them drink. But only a little. Remember, boys, only a swallow or two. Beat them back if you have to.”
They did as he directed, and had no little trouble restraining the heated, panting animals; then returned to the road again and waited by the horses’ sides until the word was given to mount, when they started once more, convinced that they were on the right track, for all had been able to see the imprints of hoofs on the roadway.
“The scoundrels didn’t stop to water here,” said General Matajente to Mr. Dartmoor, when they were riding again. “They probably tried it farther along and failed, for the banks are too high. I tell you, my friend, we’ve got them!”
The iron merchant reached out his hand and grasped that which the little officer had extended. No further words were exchanged, for the father was too choked for utterance.
Fragrance from heliotrope bushes came to them, borne on the light wind that swept down from the mountains. The road turned frequently, and at no time could they see far ahead; it was thrown into shadow in places by dense grasses, and in others stretched away in clear moonlight. On they rode, faster and faster, the horses needing very little urging, for they sprang forward gladly in the clear, cool night. An hour passed without a word being said by any one, then the silence was broken by the general.
“They should not be far off now. I don’t believe they had over a half hour’s start, and they do not know how to save their horses. Besides, the most of the animals they have cannot compare with these. Of course those which they took from your stables are runners, but all the others must be ordinary cavalry mounts.”
Mr. Dartmoor nodded his head, to signify that he understood, but he did not speak.
Still they rode on, sweeping under willows that touched their heads and shoulders, curving in and out between the bamboo rows, at times near the river, again several rods from the bank, following the winding road that by this time had narrowed so that only two could ride abreast, and was increasing in up grade. They had passed through an unusually long stretch of forest and had emerged into an equally long reach of roadway, lighted by the moon, which was still about two hours high—for it was nearly midnight—when General Matajente yelled:—
“There they are!” and pointed to markings straight ahead that at first looked like tall bushes, indicating another turn, but which a second glance told were moving.