“All the same, this hole has served our turn well. However, I quite agree with you that the best thing we can do is to get out of it quickly.”
This was more easily said than done. It was like climbing up a precipice. Pizarro slipped back three times. Carmen’s mare did no better. In the end we had to dismount, fasten two lariats to each saddle, and haul while the horses scrambled. A little help goes a long way in such circumstances.
All this both made noise and caused delay, and it was with a decided sense of relief that we found ourselves once more in the saddle and en route.
“We have lost more time than I reckoned on,” said Carmen, as we galloped through the pass. “If any of the dragoons had turned back—However, they did not, and, as our horses are both fresher than theirs and carry less weight, they will have no chance of overtaking us if they do; and, as the whole of the regiment has gone on, there is no chance of meeting any more of them—Caramba! Halt!”
“What is it?” I asked, pulling up short.
“I spoke too soon. More are coming. Don’t you hear them?”
“Yes; and I see shadows in the distance.”
“The shadows are soldiers, and we shall have to charge them whether they be few or many, amigo mio; so say your prayers and draw your Toledo. But first let us shake hands, we may never—”
“I am quite ready to charge by your side, Carmen; but would it not be better, think you, to try what a little strategy will do?”
“With all my heart, if you can suggest anything feasible. I like a fight immensely—when the odds are not too great—and I hope to die fighting. All the same, I have no very strong desire to die at this particular moment.”