"Gallop!" roared the colonel, as entering the valley we caught sight of what was going on.
Unperceived by us, a Royalist detachment had stolen down the valley and flung itself on the flank of our two rear battalions. Taken by surprise, and outnumbered, our men were speedily overpowered, and before we had arrived on the scene they had dispersed in all directions.
To the shouts of "Viva el Rey!" and encouraged by their officers, the Royalists were hotly chasing their beaten enemy. The valley was in a state of terrible confusion. The dead bodies of men lay scattered about; a few of the victors were dragging off an abandoned gun; others were carrying away stores and baggage. The fight was a complete disaster for our side.
"We can't do any good," whispered Alzura, as the colonel halted us, "and I doubt if we aren't cut off ourselves."
"Better charge at once," muttered Plaza; "the more we look at it the less we shall like it."
"My lads," cried the colonel, riding down the ranks, "there is a stiff bit of work before us. Let us remember we are the Hussars of Junin."
The troopers responded with a ringing "Viva!" and as we got a firmer seat on our saddles, Alzura remarked,—
"That's the way to talk, Juan. These fellows will fight to the death now."
There was something fresh happening on the other side, but we had no time to see what it was. The bugle sounded, and with the colonel leading we dashed straight across the valley. An infantry battalion peppered us from the right, and a squadron was drawn up right across our path.
Men began to fall. Here and there a riderless horse, darting from the ranks, tore across the valley. We were, as Alzura said, in a warm corner.