“Another cloud of dust,” said Gahra, pointing to the north-west.
So there was, and moving rapidly. Had our attention been less taken up with the guerillas this new portent would not so long have escaped us.
“Mejia! I’ll wager ten thousand piasters that behind that cloud are Mejia and his braves,” exclaimed Carmen, excitedly. Hijo de Dios! Won’t they make mince-meat of the Spaniard? How I wish I were with them! Shall we go back Señor Fortescue?”
“If you think—”
“Think! I am sure. I can see the gleam of their spears through the dust. By all means, let us join them. The Spaniards have too much on their hands just now to heed us. But I must have a spear.”
And with that Carmen slipped from his horse and picked up the lance of the fallen guerilla.
“Do you prefer a spear to a sword?” I asked, as we rode on.
“I like both, but in a charge on the llanos I prefer a spear decidedly. Yet I dare say you will do better with the weapon to which you have been most accustomed. If you ward off or evade the first thrust and get to your opponent’s left rear you will have him at your mercy. Our llaneros are indifferent swordsmen; but once turn your back and you are doomed. Hurrah! There is Mejia, leading his fellows on. Don’t you see him? The tall man on the big horse. Forward, señors! We may be in time for the encounter even yet.”