"Rough? rather! especially as Bolivar has turned us into cavalry," and he proceeded to give a graphic account of the passage.
"The shelving ledges on the mountain sides are so narrow that the troops were obliged to advance in single file. The cavalry, of course, were greatly handicapped. Each man rode a mule, and had a led horse, which he dragged after him by a lasso. Sometimes a break in the track, caused by a deep gully or a waterfall, occurred, when the men had to dismount, and to lead their animals.
"But the worst of all was when night came while we were still on the march," said Plaza. "We always walked then, and more than one fellow went tumbling down some frightful precipice. We lost our way two or three times, though there were plenty of trumpeters stationed at intervals. But Cordova will tell you about that," and there was a general laugh.
"Oh," said Alzura, scenting a bit of fun, "order, please, for Cordova's story.—Now, my boy, out with it!"
"'Twas nothing," replied Cordova airily. "We missed our way, and had to return, that's all. A mere accident, only these fellows make such a fuss about it."
"Plaza, you tell the yarn," said I. "Cordova's much too modest, and that's quite a new thing for him, too!"
"Well, it happened on the wildest night of the whole journey. A terrific snowstorm came on, half blinding us. We were wet through and tired as dogs, and the camping-place was still a long way off. We couldn't see much, but there was plenty of noise. The wind howled, the trumpeters blew loud enough to wake the dead, officers shouted to their men, horses neighed and mules brayed: it was a regular pandemonium! To crown all, we were following the windings of a roaring torrent."
"And Cordova was leading," interrupted Major Gamarra.
"Some one suggested we were on the wrong track, but our friend knew better. 'Follow me,' said he; 'I can guide you by the sounds of the trumpets.' And we followed."
"Like a flock of sheep," chimed in the major.