"So much the better—that is what I prefer;" and then raising his voice, "Advance!" he cried; "And do not let us spare the horses!"
The horsemen applied the spurs as they loosed their bridles, and all the troop darted forward in the darkness with the rapidity of a hurricane, taking the plain in a right line, clearing ravines and thickets without taking count of obstacles.
The two ladies were placed between Emile and the Guaraní, who were themselves each flanked by a gaucho. There was something strange and fantastic in the mad flight of this black legion, flying in the darkness, silent and sad, with the irresistible rapidity of a whirlwind.
The flight continued thus for several hours; the horses gasped; some even began to stumble.
"Whatever happens, we must stop an hour," murmured the Pincheyra; "if not, we shall soon be dismounted."
Tyro heard him.
"Let us only reach the rancho of the Quemado," said he.
"What good will that be?" sharply replied the Montonero; "We are still two leagues from it at least; our horses will be completely knocked up."
"What matter? I have prepared a relay."
"A relay! We are too numerous."