I was not mistaken; and I was quickly by his side, when I found that he had on the cap and cloak of an officer. The other person who followed close behind him was, I guessed from his uniform, which I could but indistinctly see, Antonio.
Uncle Richard divined who I was, and he put out his hand and grasped mine. I returned the pressure; but we did not venture to speak.
Antonio led the way to the western side of the city. “We must make for the mountains immediately; there will be less risk of the Godos looking for us there,” he said, when we had got between some high convent walls, where no one was likely to overhear us.
One thing was certain, we must get to a distance from the city before daybreak. On that point we were all agreed.
When there was no risk of being seen, we moved as fast as possible; but as we drew near the guard at the entrance of the city we had to walk at a dignified pace. Antonio had given the sign and countersign to Uncle Richard and me, so we passed through without question; it being supposed, in all likelihood, that the officer was on his way to visit some outpost attended by an orderly, while I concluded that I was taken for a guide.
Long before morning dawned we were well among the mountains. Antonio had thoughtfully filled his knapsack with provisions, which, in addition to those I had brought from Don José’s, would serve us for several days. The corporal had also furnished himself with a remarkably good rifle, and a quantity of ammunition. Our intention was to make our way to some place occupied by a Patriot force, of which we hoped to gain intelligence from the peasantry, either Creoles or Indians, the greater portion of whom were likely to prove friendly. It was most important, however, to put as great a distance as possible between the city and ourselves, for as soon as our flight was discovered parties would certainly be sent out to scour the country in search of us.
We rested for a couple of hours under an overhanging rock—to take some food and regain our strength—just before daybreak, and then once more pushed on. None of us, unfortunately, had any exact knowledge of the country. We had therefore to steer by the sun, and to follow the tracks which appeared to lead in the direction we wished to go. Occasionally, when we reached a height from which a view eastward could be obtained, we looked back to ascertain if any one was following. A party on horseback, by galloping over the more level ground, instead of climbing the mountains on foot, might even now overtake us.
The sun was still shining over the hills to the westward, but would shortly disappear behind them, when we saw before us a rapid river rushing between lofty and precipitous cliffs. How to cross it, was the question. We could see no bridge or canoe, and it ran too furiously for us to breast its foaming billows; while it would be dangerous to cross on a raft, even if we could find materials for forming one.
We made our way over the rough ground down the stream.
“I should think we must be safe from pursuit here; but I will just take a look-out from yonder height,” observed Uncle Richard.