"We expect too much. It is not a twenty-four pounder. Major, I _envy_
you two things--your rifle and your horse."
"Hercules?"
"Of course."
"Lord, Captain! you may do what you will with the rifle; and if ever we
get out of the reach of these infernal devils, Hercules shall be--."
At this moment a cheer came from the guerilleros, and a voice was heard
shouting above the din:
"_La metralla! la metralla_!" (The howitzer!)
I leaped upon the roof, and looked out upon the plain. It was true. A
howitzer-carriage, drawn by mules, was debouching from the woods, the
animals dragging it along at a gallop.
It was evidently a piece of some size, large enough to tear the light
picketing that screened us to atoms.
I turned towards my men with a look of despair. My eye at this moment
rested on the drove of mules that stood crowded together in a corner of
the pen. A sudden thought struck me. Might we not mount them and
escape? There were more than enough to carry us all, and the rancho was
filled with bridles and ropes. I instantly leaped from the roof, and
gave orders to the men.
"Speedily, but without noise!" cried I, as the soldiers proceeded to
fling bridles upon the necks of the animals.
In five minutes each man, with his rifle slung, stood by a mule, some of
them having buckled on _tapadas_, to prevent the animals from kicking.
The major stood ready by his horse.
"Now, my brave fellows," shouted I in a loud voice, "we must take it
cavalry fashion--Mexican cavalry, I mean." The men laughed. "Once in
the woods, we shall retreat no farther. At the words `_Mount and
follow_', spring to your seats and follow Mr Clayley. I shall look to
your rear--don't stop to fire--hold on well. If anyone fall, let his
nearest comrade take him up. Ha! anyone hurt there?" A shot had
whistled through the ranks. "Only a scratch," was the reply.
"All ready, then, are you? Now, Mr Clayley, you see the high timber--
make direct for that. Down with the bars! `_Mount and follow_'!"
As I uttered the last words, the men leaped to their seats; and Clayley,
riding the bell-mule, dashed out of the corral, followed by the whole
train, some of them plunging and kicking, but all galloped forward at
the sound of the bell upon their guide.
As the dark cavalcade rushed out upon the prairie, a wild cry from the
guerilleros told that this was the first intimation they had had of the
singular _ruse_. They sprang to their saddles with yells, and galloped
in pursuit. The howitzer, that had been trailed upon the corral, was
suddenly wheeled about and fired; but the shot, ill-directed in their
haste, whistled harmlessly over our heads.
The guerilleros, on their swift steeds, soon lessened the distance
between us.
With a dozen of the best men I hung in the rear, to give the foremost of
the pursuers a volley, or pick up any soldier who might be tossed from
his mule. One of these, at intervals, kicked as only a Mexican mule
can; and when within five hundred yards of the timber, his rider, an
Irishman, was flung upon the prairie.
The rearmost of our party stopped to take him up. He was seized by
Chane, who mounted him in front of himself. The delay had nearly been
fatal. The pursuers were already within a hundred yards, firing their
pistols and escopettes without effect. A number of the men turned in
their seats and blazed back. Others threw their rifles over their
shoulders, and pulled trigger at random. I could perceive that two or
three guerilleros dropped from their saddles. Their comrades, with
shouts of vengeance, closed upon us nearer and nearer. The long lazos,
far in advance, whistled around our heads.
I felt the slippery noose light upon my shoulders. I flung out my arms
to throw it off, but with a sudden jerk it tightened around my neck. I
clutched the hard thong, and pulled with all my might. It was in vain.
The animal I rode, freed from my _manege_, seemed to plunge under me,
and gather up its back with a vicious determination to fling me. It
succeeded; and I was launched in the air, and dashed to the earth with a
stunning violence.
I felt myself dragged along the gravelly ground. I grasped the weeds,
but they came away in my hands, torn up by the roots. There was a
struggle above and around me. I could hear loud shouts and the firing
of guns. I felt that I was being strangled.
A bright object glistened before my eyes. I felt myself seized by a
strong, rough hand, and swung into the air and rudely shaken, as if in
the grasp of some giant's arm.
Something twitched me sharply over the cheeks. I heard the rustling of
trees. Branches snapped and crackled, and leaves swept across my face.
Then came the flash--flash, and the crack--crack--crack of a dozen
rifles, and under their blazing light I was dashed a second time with
violence to the earth.
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Note 1. Troop of guerillas, who in Spanish are properly _guerilleros_.