"Mount!" cried he to Herrera, "and spur, all of you, like devils. We have been here too long already."
"You overtook him?" cried Herrera, springing into the saddle.
For sole reply, Velasquez raised his crimsoned sword, and dashing away with the back of his hand the blood that blinded him, and which flowed from a cut on his head, he set forward at full speed towards the convent.
The guerillas were already formed up in readiness to depart. The Mochuelo, chafing with impatience, had ridden a short distance to meet Herrera and Velasquez.
"By all the saints!" he exclaimed, as they came up, "this delay may cost us our lives, Captain Herrera. But how is this, you come alone? He has escaped then, and carried off the lady!"
"It was not her we seek," replied Luis; "she must still be in the convent."
"Impossible!" said the Mochuelo. "We have rummaged every corner of it."
"She must be there!" cried Herrera. "I will find her."
"We march instantly," said the Mochuelo, laying his hand on Herrera's bridle. "We have tarried too long."
"Go, then, without me," exclaimed Herrera. And, snatching his rein from the guerilla's grasp, he spurred his horse up the slope.