The two officers relaxed a trifle. They had arrived at that decision more than a half an hour ago.
Holtz said: “Your Excellency is right. It is very bad.”
The General looked at him sourly. “How bad?” he demanded, coming back to the table. “Show me here.” He put a thick finger on the map. “How bad?”
Holtz leant forward. “This is how I see it,” he said. “The enemy are in considerable strength. They are well mounted and they have artillery. If we attempted to make a stand here we could be surrounded. We are outnumbered by four to one and our men are tired. They are even disheartened. We have been retreating for the last two weeks.” He tapped the map. “Against artillery we could not hold this position long, then it would be too late to fall back. I think we should withdraw immediately.”
The General ran his fingers through his close-cropped iron-grey hair. “And you?” he said, looking at Mendetta.
“We would have to leave the gun,” Mendetta said slowly, knowing that he had touched the point on which the whole situation hinged. “We should not have time to get the gun up the mountain-path to the hills. The enemy are hardly three hours’ ride from here. If we retreated now, the gun would have to be abandoned.”
Cortez smiled. “The gun goes with us. Make no mistake about that. We have taken that gun from the enemy and we have dragged it for three hundred miles. We will not abandon it now.”
The two officers glanced at each other and shrugged. It was to be expected. They had anticipated that, sooner or later, the accursed gun would endanger the safety of the tattered, retreating army. It was not as if they had any shells. The gun was useless. It was, however, a symbol of the only victory General Cortez had scored against the enemy in a lightning raid, and under no circumstances was he parting with such a symbol. If he was driven back over the mountains, he was determined that the gun should go with him.
Holtz said, “Your Excellency has no doubt made his plans?”
There was no longer a bond of sympathy between the two officers and the General. Let the old fool get out of this if he could. They had no wish to endanger their lives for the sake of a captured, useless gun. They were young enough to accept defeat, knowing that they could win perhaps fresh glory another day, but Cortez was getting old. His time was nearly past.