Part 56 (1/2)

This sounded very mysterious, but in a short time the secret was out.

We had just settled ourselves comfortably when Alzura started up, and some one said, in a tone of great disgust, ”Mosquitoes!”

They were very fine specimens, and, I suppose, exceedingly angry at our invasion of their territory. They came buzzing up in countless thousands, and though many were slain, the slaughter made no apparent difference in their numbers.

I had put on my gloves, and now hastily covered my face with a handkerchief. The mosquitoes were by no means dismayed. Thirsting for blood, they would not be denied, but drank deeply. To any one mosquito-proof the scene would have been most laughable. We made a desperate fight, but the victory was to the mosquitoes.

Our hands, necks, and faces were swollen from their venomous bites.

Some of the men could hardly see; and though we were dreadfully fatigued, every one longed to hear the bugle-call to fall in. No one wanted to remain in what Plaza christened ”Alzura's paradise.”

The welcome sound came at break of day, and we moved out quickly, abandoning the battlefield to our active and vigorous foes. As soon as we reached the open country the rain began to fall, and continued in torrents all that day and the following night.

”I don't exactly see how much better off we are than Barriero,”

remarked Alzura, as we lay down to sleep in a muddy puddle.

”You should have stayed with him, then.”

”It's all very well to say that now. Why did you bring me away?”

I was too much staggered by the audacity of the question to make a suitable reply.

Hungry, cold, and wet, we resumed the retreat, and soon began defiling into another valley. Our squadron was right in the rear, and suddenly the sounds of firing and the cries of startled men were heard in front of us.

”Mount!” cried the colonel; for we were still leading our horses, and most of our mules were dead. ”Forward! Trot!”

”Some of the enemy have doubled and cut in on our flank!” said Plaza excitedly.

”Gallop!” roared the colonel, as entering the valley we caught sight of what was going on.

Unperceived by us, a Royalist detachment had stolen down the valley and flung itself on the flank of our two rear battalions. Taken by surprise, and outnumbered, our men were speedily overpowered, and before we had arrived on the scene they had dispersed in all directions.

To the shouts of ”Viva el Rey!” and encouraged by their officers, the Royalists were hotly chasing their beaten enemy. The valley was in a state of terrible confusion. The dead bodies of men lay scattered about; a few of the victors were dragging off an abandoned gun; others were carrying away stores and baggage. The fight was a complete disaster for our side.

”We can't do any good,” whispered Alzura, as the colonel halted us, ”and I doubt if we aren't cut off ourselves.”

”Better charge at once,” muttered Plaza; ”the more we look at it the less we shall like it.”

”My lads,” cried the colonel, riding down the ranks, ”there is a stiff bit of work before us. Let us remember we are the Hussars of Junin.”

The troopers responded with a ringing ”Viva!” and as we got a firmer seat on our saddles, Alzura remarked,--

”That's the way to talk, Juan. These fellows will fight to the death now.”

There was something fresh happening on the other side, but we had no time to see what it was. The bugle sounded, and with the colonel leading we dashed straight across the valley. An infantry battalion peppered us from the right, and a squadron was drawn up right across our path.

Men began to fall. Here and there a riderless horse, darting from the ranks, tore across the valley. We were, as Alzura said, in a warm corner.

Bullets whizzed past our ears, but we noticed them not, riding straight as a die at the hostile cavalry.

”The major's down!” cried Plaza. ”Poor old major!”