A smart gallop of a few minutes brought us near enough to see what was going on, though as we had to make a considerable détour in order to avoid the Spaniards, we were just too late for the charge, greatly to Carmen’s disappointment.
In numbers the two sides were pretty equal, the strength of each being about a thousand men. Their tactics were rather those of Indian braves than regular troops. The patriots were, however, both better led and better disciplined than their opponents, and fought with a courage and a resolution that on their native plains would have made them formidable foes for the “crackest” of European cavalry.
The encounter took place when we were within a few hundred yards of Mejia’s left flank. It was really a charge in line, albeit a very broken line, every man riding as hard as he could and fighting for his own land. All were armed with spears, the longest, as I afterward learned, being wielded by Colombian gauchos. These portentous weapons, fully fourteen feet long, were held in both hands, the reins being meanwhile placed on the knees, and the horses guided by voice and spur. The Spaniards seemed terribly afraid of them, as well they might be, for the Colombian spears did dire execution. Few missed their mark, and I saw more than one trooper literally spitted and lifted clean out of his saddle.
Mejia, distinguishable by his tall stature, was in the thick of the fray. After the first shock he threw away his spear, and drawing a long two-handed sword, which he carried at his back, laid about like a coeur-de-lion. The combat lasted only a few minutes, and though we were too late to contribute to the victory we were in time to take part in the pursuit.
It was a scene of wild confusion and excitement; the Spaniards galloping off in all directions, singly and in groups, making no attempt to rally, yet when overtaken, fighting to the last, Mejia’s men following them with lowered lances and wild cries, managing their fiery little horses with consummate ease, and making no prisoners.
“Here is a chance for us; let us charge these fellows!” shouted Carmen, as eight or nine of the enemy rode past us in full retreat; and without pausing for a reply he went off at a gallop, followed by Gahra and myself; for although I had no particular desire to attack men who were flying for their lives and to whom I knew no quarter would be given, it was impossible to hold back when my comrades were rushing into danger. Had the Spaniards been less intent on getting away it would have fared ill with us. As it was, we were all wounded. Gahra got a thrust through the arm, Carmen a gash in the thigh; and as I gave one fellow the point in his throat his spear pierced my hat and cut my head. If some of the patriots had not come to the rescue our lives would have paid the forfeit of our rashness.
The incident was witnessed by Mejia himself, who, when he recognized Carmen, rode forward, greeted us warmly and remarked that we were just in time.
“To be too late,” answered Carmen, discontentedly, as he twisted a handkerchief round his wounded thigh.
“Not much; and you have done your share. That was a bold charge you made. And your friends? I don’t think I have the pleasure of knowing them.”