“No—it cannot be? A house of stone, with scarcely enough timber to make a blaze! It cannot be that?”
It is not that. We emerge from the forest; the hacienda is before our eyes. Its white walls gleam under a yellow light—the light of fire, but not of a conflagration. The house stands intact. A huge bonfire burns in front of the portal; it was this that caused the glare through the forest.
We draw up and gaze upon it with surprise. We behold a huge pile—the material supplied from the household stock of dry faggots—a vast blaze drowning the pale moonshine. We can see the hacienda, and all around it, as distinctly as by the light of day!
For what purpose this holocaust of crackling acacias?
Around the fire we behold many forms, living and moving. There are men, women, dogs, and saddled horses. Huge joints are roasting over the red coals, and others, roasted, are being greedily eaten. Are they savages who surround that blazing pile?
No—we can see their faces with full distinctness, the white skins and black beards of the men, the cotton garments of the women; we can see sombreros and serapes, cloth cloaks and calzoneros of velveteen, sashes and sabres; we can distinguish their voices as they shout, sing, and carouse; we note their lascivious movements in the national dance—the fandango. No Indians they—’tis a bivouac of the guerrilleros—the ruffians for whom we are in search!
Oh, that I had listened to the voice of prudence, and adopted the strategy of a surround! But my blood was boiling, and I feared to lose even a moment of time, lest we might be too late. But one or two of my followers counselled delay, and, as the event proved, they were the wisest. The rest, like myself, were impatient for action.
The word was given: and like hounds, fresh loosed from the leash, we rushed forward with charging cheer.
It was the madness of fools. Well knew our enemy the hoarse Texan “hurrah!” It had been shouted to terrify them, when there was no need. They would never have stood ground.
The shout warned them, causing them to scatter like a herd of deer. The steep hill proved too heavy for our horses; and before we could reach its summit, the main body of the guerrilla had mounted and scampered off into the darkness. Six of them fell to our shots; and as many more, with their she-associates, remained prisoners in our hands; but as usual that subtle coward had contrived to escape.