For myself I was roughly pitched upon the back of the brigand’s horse; and, after being securely tied, hands behind, and legs to the stirrup-leathers, I was conducted from the ground, a brace of brigands riding, one on either side, and guarding me with a vigilance that forbade me to indulge in the slightest hope of escape.
Story 1, Chapter XXI.
Robbers En Route.
At a short distance from the spot where I had been lazoed, the road taken by the robbers debouched from the forest, and entered the chapparal.
No longer under the gloomy shadow of the great trees, I had a better view of the band, and could see that they were genuine salteadores.
Indeed, I had not doubted it from the first—at least, not after discovering who was their leader. The wounded Jarocho had told me that most of the guerillos commanded by Rayas, were no better than brigands; and that such honest fellows as himself, who had been forced to join it, would all return to their homes, after the breaking up of the Mexican army by the defeat of Cerro Gordo.
What I now saw was no longer Rayas’ guerillas, but a remnant of it—or rather the individuals of that organisation, who had been his bandit associates before the breaking out of the war.
There were in all between twenty and thirty of these patriotic brigands; and from the opportunity I now had of scanning the faces of such as were near me, I can justly affirm that a more ferocious set of ruffians I never beheld—to the full as picturesque, and evidently as pitiless, as their Italian brethren of the Abruzzi.