“True, at times; but there were other times when the Government became lynx-eyed, and then smuggling was no joke. We had some sharp skirmishing. Sacre! I have good cause to remember this very hill. I came near making a jump into purgatory from the other side of it.”
“Ha! how was that?”
“Cenobio had got a large lot of cochineal from a crafty trader at Oaxaca. It was cachéd about two leagues from the hacienda in the hills, and a vessel was to drop into the mouth of the Medellin to take it on board.
“A party of us were engaged to carry it across to the coast; and, as the cargo was very valuable, we were all of us armed to the teeth, with orders from the patrone to defend it at all hazards. His men were just the fellows who would obey that order, coming, as it did, from Cenobio.
“The Government somehow or other got wind of the affair, and slipped a strong detachment out of Vera Cruz in time to intercept us. We met them on the other side of this very hill, where a road strikes off towards Medellin.”
“Well! and what followed?”
“Why, the battle lasted nearly an hour; and, after having lost half a score of their best men, the valiant lancers rode back to Vera Cruz quicker than they came out of it.”
“And the smugglers?”
“Carried the goods safe on board. Three of them—poor fellows!—are lying not far off, and I came near sharing their luck. I have a lance-hole through my thigh, here, that pains me at this very moment.”
My ear at this moment caught the sound of dogs barking hoarsely below. Horses of the cavalcade commenced neighing, answered by others from the adjacent fields, who recognised their old companions.