CHAPTER XL.
WON AT LAST.
Of course, they pursued us—it was destined that our escape from Bolivar should be marked by one more dramatic scene, as though to round out the whole tragic business.
Daylight was just beginning to break when we clattered past the last scattering adobe huts, and struck out upon the winding road that led in the direction of Jalapa, climbing mountains, crossing wild valleys and presenting many dangerous features to a company without a guide.
Once free from the town and its noises, we experienced a remarkable sense of relief; and could we have been assured that no pursuit would be inaugurated, we might have enjoyed the journey very much.
That sunrise as seen from the side of the mountain was equal to any I ever witnessed even in Italy.
Robbins had even thought of food; he apologized because he had been unable to secure a pack horse on such short notice and load him down with all the paraphernalia of a camping outfit, but we united in declaring what he had done was really astonishing; given time, I think he would have bagged all the dainties in Bolivar.
We ate as we rode, for our enemies were too near at hand and our horses too fresh to think of making so early a halt.
The invigorating air gave us high spirits, and we could even converse about the wreck and the probable fate of Gustavus and Diana, as well as the men, without shuddering.
Still, I feared it was a theme that would cast more or less of a shadow athwart our happiness in the future, for it was a bitter thing to think of that bright society woman, one of the most charming of her sex, thus taken away so suddenly and cruelly.