“Now!” muttered Rube, in a sharp quick tone, “guns ready, boys! no waste shots, d’yur hear? Lead counts hyur—it do. See! By the jumpin Geehosophat, thur a gwine to ride right down! Let ’em kum on, and be damned! Thur’s one o’ ’em won’t git thie fur—I mout say two—I mout say three i’deed. Durn the glint o’ thet sun! Billee!” he continued, addressing Garey, “ee ’ll shoot fust; yur gun’s furrest carry. Plug the big un on the clay-bank hoss. This child’s for Number 2 on the grey mustang. An, young fellur! ee’ll jest pick off thet niggur on the roan. I know yur wild-cat to the back-bone, but keep yur eye skinned an yur narves steady, d’yur hear?”
“Yes, yes!” I hurriedly answered, though at the time steadiness of nerves was easier promised than practised. My heart was heaving in quick pulsations at the near prospect of the terrible drama about to be enacted.
At this moment the “Forward” fell upon our ears, and with the wild notes of the bugle came the words—
“Andela! anda! Dios y Guadalupe!” (On! forward! God and Guadalupe!)
In an instant, the troop was in motion, galloping down to the charge.
They had not made many stretches before their line became broken, several of the swiftest or most courageous having forged ahead of the others.
“The three ’most!” cried Rube, in the same sharp tone—“the three fo’most! Thet’ll fotch ’em up wi’ a roun turn, or this child’s mistaken. Now, boyees! mind yur eyes! Steady! Stea–dy—stea–d–y—”
All at once, Rube’s muttered cautions, slowly drawled out, were changed to an exclamation that betokened surprise, followed by a long low whistle of the same import!
The cause was clear! The guerrilleros had got within three hundred yards of us, still going at a gallop, but we could perceive that their pace slackened as they advanced; already it was more of an amble than the forward dash of an earnest charge. It was evident they had no stomach for the business—now that they were near enough to see the shining barrels and black hollow tubes of our levelled rifles.
Garey was waiting till the foremost should pass the artemisia-bush; for by that he had calculated the point-blank range of his rifle. Another moment, and its crack would have been heard; but the horseman, as if warned by instinct, seemed to divine the exact limit of danger. Before reaching the bush, his heart failed him, and in a wavering, irresolute manner, he drew bridle, and halted!