The mustangs, scenting danger, reared, plunged or snorted, and when free of restraining halters made every effort to dash away.
By this time the danger had greatly increased. A shell, dropping on one of the market stands in the plaza, and exploding with a terrific report, sent a shower of lumber, boxes, and baskets in all directions, besides shattering every pane of glass in the buildings near by.
“Now it’s your turn to get a whiff of smoke and powder!” cried the special correspondent. “Everybody ready? Come on then, to the rescue of Jimmy, and keep your eyes open!”
Leading the mustangs outside, men and boys sprang into the saddles. There was no need to use either quirt or spurs on the frightened animals. They started off, even before their riders were comfortably seated, and at a speed which endangered the safety of the ever-moving throngs of Mexicans, clattered across the broad plaza.
The slowly strengthening rays of the sun and the reflections of the golden orb itself, flashing like jets of flame from some of the upper windows, gave a singular air of peace and tranquillity to the scene strangely out of harmony with the noise, the confusion and the excitement in the narrow, twisting streets.
What with the roar of the artillery, the incessant crackling of rifles, the occasional bursting of a shell, and the realization that they were just as likely to be running into danger as out of it, Cranny Beaumont found his longing for thrills fully gratified.
As the horsemen swung into the street on which Jimmy Raymond’s hotel was located, they observed behind barricades of beams and sand-bags piled on the roofs of some of the higher buildings the tops of tall conical hats and gleams on rifle barrels.
In the crowded street they were often obliged to slow up, much to the annoyance of Edmunds, who perhaps understood more fully than his companions the grave peril of their situation. His one object was to get the lads on the United States side of the International bridge, and every instant he was experiencing a dull, deadly fear that something might happen to prevent him from carrying out this plan.
Now and again rurales came galloping along, by their reckless riding and loud yells adding to the turmoil. There were no cries of “Gringo” heard just now; the Mexicans, intent upon their own troubles, scarcely seemed to notice the presence of the Americans in their midst.
“By Jove! I was never gladder to see anything in my life!” shouted Dick to Cranny. The hotel with the big cottonwoods in front had just loomed into view. “I reckon the poor chap is having the scare of his life.”