"No, no, major; his cavalry aren't a patch on ours. We've never had a chance to show our mettle before."
"Well, we shall have one now," said the major, as we began to descend to the plain.
Two Colombian squadrons were in front of us, while Miller was still further ahead and bearing to the left. On the other side of the defile we caught a glimpse now and then of the Royalist cavalry forming up. The ground was so broken that we could only go at a foot-pace, and I began to think the major might be right.
As we entered the defile there came a great shout of "Viva el Rey!" from the plains ahead, and the next instant the Royalist horsemen, thirteen hundred strong, and led by Canterac himself, dashed madly to the attack.
"Viva! viva!" they yelled, cutting and thrusting with sabre and lance. The onset was like a mighty avalanche, and our men were for the most part overwhelmed. A few of the strongest and best mounted cut their way through, but numbers were overthrown, and the rest came flying back, with the victorious Royalists slashing and cutting on all sides.
"By St. Philip," muttered Plaza, "we shall be swept away."
Our colonel, seeing the danger, manoeuvred us into an angle of the marsh, just as the mob of horsemen, friend and foe inextricably mixed, swarmed down, shouting, struggling, fighting.
"Forward! forward!" yelled the exultant Royalists, sweeping past like a whirlwind.
Farther away on the left, another body was driving Miller's men into the swamp, and it seemed that the Patriot cavalry must be annihilated. But our squadron remained untouched, and leading us into the plain, Suares issued an order to charge the Royalists who were handling Miller's troops so roughly.
"We must win or die, my lads!" he cried; "the country depends on us."