It was a job that made their nerves tingle anew, for a number of men were sprawling in the shade not so very far away.
The crowd managed it, however. Tom was the first to spring into the saddle.
“Come along, Jimmy!” he exclaimed, with a long, deep breath. The young pianist without an instant’s hesitation jumped up behind him.
“Let ’er go, Tom,” he said. “Yes, don’t bother. I’ll hold on tight!”
At the head of the little procession Tom started off, turning into the first street at the rear of the hotel. Very few of the inhabitants of the town were to be seen, but their eyes could not roam far in any direction without taking in some of the victorious cavalrymen.
Riding at a cautious pace and carefully choosing the side streets, many of which were practically deserted, they were soon a considerable distance from the hotel.
Had there been less excitement and confusion it is almost certain that the victorious Constitutionalists would have quickly stopped them and demanded explanations. But the soldiers, flushed with victory, were too busy searching for the richest spoils to concern themselves very much with a handful of passing horsemen.
True it was that many a pair of fierce, questioning eyes was turned upon them, and the five felt their hearts beat fast when a galloping horse was pulled up with a jerk, and its rider addressed them in a rough, loud voice.
“Buenas dias, señor,” said Bob, politely. “Buenas dias, señor,” said the others with equal gravity. The man, for a moment, looked at them with a puzzled expression, then muttering to himself continued on his way.
Becoming bolder by degrees, they clattered along at a good rate, past the still smoking ruins of the Municipal Palace, by the side of a row of buildings on Commerco Street, of which only the jagged, smoke-begrimed walls remained. Débris filled the streets, telegraph poles lay across their path, wires were strewn about, and broken and scarred walls gave evidence of the terrific violence of the artillery fire.