On the perilous line of the path.
The roar of devouring surges
Came up from the breakers’ hoarse war;
And “Back, or you perish!” cried Bernal;
“I turn not on Paso del Mar!” 48
The gray mule stood firm as the headland;
He clutched at the jingling rein,
When Pablo rose up in his saddle
And smote till he dropped it again.
A wild oath of passion swore Bernal,