"Silence!" roared a Royalist sergeant; "no talking!" And Alzura groaned. How was he to live if he had to keep his tongue still?
A long strip of tough hide was now brought, and was knotted at intervals to the fastenings between each pair of prisoners. It formed a sort of gigantic single rein, and I suggested in a whisper to Alzura that we were to be harnessed to the viceroy's chariot.
"'Twill save horseflesh, and we shall be doing something for our living," I added.
Some of the soldiers now went to the front of us, some to the rear; the door was flung wide open. "March!" cried the officer, and into the corridor we marched, through the yard, and so into the open road.
"Out at last," I remarked to Alzura. "The Royalists have hit on an even simpler plan than yours."
"Simple, but not clever. There is no art in this kind of thing."
"Oh, isn't there?" I laughed, giving the thongs a tug. "The arrangement strikes me as unusually artistic."
"You are trying to be witty, dear boy. Don't. The Royalists will be revenged on us, and who shall blame them? Hullo, they aren't taking us into the town!"
"No; we're going for a pleasure trip somewhere, I expect. How kind of them to think we need a change!—I say, Barriero, don't you think this is an improvement on Alzura's plan?"
Barriero, who was one of the couple in front of us, laughed and said, "Well, I can't say yet. I'll tell you when I know more about it."