“Come on! It will do!” he cried, dragging his horse after him.
I followed with Pizarro, who missing his footing landed on his head. As for myself, I rolled from top to bottom, the descent being much steeper than I had expected.
[Chapter XII.]
Between Two Fires.
The ravine was filled with shrubs and trees, through which we partly forced, partly threaded our way, until we reached a spot where we were invisible from the road.
“Now off with your cobija and throw it over your horse’s head,” said Carmen. “If they don’t hear they won’t neigh, and a single neigh might be our ruin.”
“You mean to stay here until the troops have gone past?”
“Exactly, I knew there was a good hiding-place hereabout, and that if we reached it before the troops came up we should be safe. If there be any more of them they will pass us in a few minutes. Now, if you will hitch Pizarro to that tree—oh, you have done so already. Good! Well, let us return to the road and watch. We can hide in the grass, or behind the bushes.”
We returned accordingly, and choosing a place where we could see without being seen, we lay down and listened, exchanging now and then a whispered remark.