'No, we aren't, and we don't mean to. That's not the main attack. I'm going over the mountain to-night—hope to be above Santa Cruz at daylight—you've got a pretty stiff climb before you.'
'But won't all the paths be defended?' I asked, jolly excited to think of what was going to happen. 'Surely old Zorilla would do that?'
'He's left one open,' Gerald winked, 'one that chap you call the 'Gnome' knows. He's going to lead us, but you'll have to wait here till it's dark.'
'What became of that black horse?' I asked him, as he was going out of the room.
'Brought it round from San Fernando, and sent it up to Zorilla yesterday. He's awfully grateful. I can't stop any longer; I must go up that road and show myself, below those trenches, before it gets too dark, or Zorilla will begin to imagine we're not intending to attack that way.'
Then I had to tramp up and down and wait for the sun to set, thinking of Gerald riding up the mountain road towards Santa Cruz, till he was close enough to those trenches we had seen to be recognised and be potted at.
At last it was dark—rather too dark, because a tremendously black thunder-cloud came sweeping in from seawards—and José came for me and took me away through narrow steep streets which were almost pitch-dark because the electric light from Santa Cruz had been cut off. There were bonfires at the street corners, but they only seemed to make the darkness greater.
We got up past the houses, well above the town, and came to a flatter piece of ground, and although it was pitch-dark, and I couldn't see anything, I knew, by the smell and the murmur of voices and rattling of rifles, that there were thousands of the little brown men all round me. We found Gerald at last, the 'Gnome,' in a great state of excitement, with him.
'We're just going on. We've a five-hour climb before us,' Gerald said—he didn't seem excited.
'It's going to be a beastly night,' I whispered—I could not help whispering, because I was so excited.