How we did cheer as our colonel led us out! General Miller's face wore an anxious expression as he glanced over the field. Everywhere the victorious Spaniards were driving back our left wing; we should only be just in time to repair the mischief.
"Push those two infantry battalions across the ravine while I rally the fugitives," said Miller. But he had barely spoken when the Royalist cavalry dashed down on the right flank.
"Here's Crawford's friend again!" said Plaza. "We might have guessed he had a hand in this business."
Santiago made a handsome picture as he tore along well in front of his regiment, and enemy though he was, I could not help feeling proud of him. We turned to meet this vigorous onslaught, and though Santiago fought with all the traditional valour of his race, his men, already tired by their great exertions, could not stand against us.
Stopping their flight, our own infantry rallied, and advanced in support, while their loud cheers proclaimed the arrival of a second cavalry regiment. Nothing daunted by his repulse, Santiago led his troopers against the new enemy, while we bore down on the hostile infantry.
"Gallop!" cried our colonel; and neck by neck the horses flew over the ground, the men waving their sabres and cheering lustily. We could see the glittering steel of the bayonets now, could almost look down the barrels of the muskets, when there came a blinding flash, the thud of falling bodies, and hoarse shrieks of pain.
"Forward!" thundered the colonel, "forward; remember the 'Hussars of Junin!'"
Crash we went right into them before they could fire another volley, and then it was horseman against footman, sabre against bayonet. To and fro we surged, striking parrying, thrusting, till at last the brave enemy, unable to continue the struggle longer, fled to the ravine, hotly pursued by our victorious regiment.
In a calmer moment we should have pulled up, but there was no stopping now. Some one raised a warning cry: it came too late. Down the ravine we went, the horses slipping and scrambling—some rolling over and crushing their riders; the majority, keeping their feet somehow, reached the opposite bank. A small detachment of the enemy halted to fire a scattering volley, which did some mischief. A man close to me fell forward on his horse's neck.
"Good-bye, Crawford!" said he faintly; "I am done for."