Part 56 (2/2)

That was his only epitaph. We had no time to sorrow for any one just then, though we mourned for him sincerely enough afterwards.

”Charge!” roared the colonel; and the sabres flashed as the horses bounded forward, thundering with their hoofs on the ground.

”Caramba!” cried Plaza; ”it's your old friend Mariano. Well, friend or foe, this is his last fight if my blade can reach him.”

Yes, the officer who had accomplished this daring flanking movement was none other than Santiago Mariano, who, with the flush of success on his handsome face, was again leading his men to the charge.

”Viva el Rey!” he cried, and his voice rang high and clear above the din. ”Down with the bandits!”

Cras.h.!.+ We were into them, fighting our way through desperately.

Horses pranced, and bit, and kicked. Men shouted triumphantly, or went down with a cry of agony on their lips. Here a gap was made and filled at once, as some daring fighter urged his way forward.

Alzura rode with the colonel, carrying the colours, and we pressed after them, knowing that our sole chance of safety was to get through the Royalist squadron. On coming out at the other side we heard a voice crying, ”Bravo! bravo, my bold hussars!” and there was General Miller, who seemed to scent a fight as a hound scents its quarry.

By this time Santiago had re-formed his squadron, and was das.h.i.+ng at our rear, when from the rocks above us sprang a line of fire, and his hors.e.m.e.n, wheeling round, rapidly withdrew. While we had been fighting, General Miller had rallied the beaten battalions and posted them in a commanding position to cover our ride through the pa.s.s.

That night in bivouac we counted Santiago's venture had cost us more than two hundred men, all the spare horses, and a quant.i.ty of stores.

”I hope you are proud of your Royalist friend,” said Alzura to me. ”He has done us a nice bit of mischief.”

”He's a smart soldier.”

”He is that,” agreed Plaza, ”and a splendid swordsman. I had a good bout with him, but could not pa.s.s his guard, though he was defending himself against three of us.”

”Did any one see the major after he fell?” I interrupted.

”No,” said Alzura; ”but I feel sure he is dead, as the bullet pa.s.sed through his forehead. He was a grim old fighter, and I'm sorry he's gone.”

”So am I. But he died a soldier's death, poor old chap,” said Cordova.

”We must have lost heavily since the retreat began. I wonder what Sucre intends doing now.”

”Why, continuing the retreat.”

”To Lima? If so, he won't have a hundred men left by the time he reaches the capital.”

”Well, what can he do? We can't stay here and starve, and he can't make the Royalists fight.”

”As to starving,” laughed Alzura, ”I would as soon starve here as elsewhere. I'm getting used to it.”

”And I don't know,” remarked Cordova, ”that forcing a fight will be so very brilliant for us. We have had one sample to-day.”

”Oh, go to sleep! You might be a raven as far as croaking's concerned.

One would think we were in a hole and couldn't get out. Trust to Sucre and Miller; they'll pull us through all right.”

”I'm going to sleep,” announced Alzura gravely. ”I had a beautiful dream last night, and want to go on where reveille interrupted it. I dreamed we were in Lima, at a banquet given by the city to the Patriot officers. There was a band to play during the feast; the hall was brilliantly lit; the table was laden with all kinds of good things. We were just beginning when the band struck up, and I woke to hear Crawford saying, 'Are you going to sleep all day?' It was a splendid feast, though. Such a quant.i.ty of--”

”Sit on him, Juan! stifle him with his own poncho! Fancy talking of banquets now! Cruelty to animals I call it.”

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