"Why think you we are with Cen.o.bio"s guerilla?"
"I know Yanez, whom we saw at the rancho. He is one of Cen.o.bio"s officers, and the leader of this party, which is only a detachment. I am rather surprised that _he_ has brought us away, considering that Dubrosc is with him; there must have been some influence in our favour which I cannot understand."
I was struck by the remark, and began to reflect upon it in silence.
The voice of the Frenchman again fell upon my ear.
"I cannot be mistaken. No--this hill--it runs down to the San Juan River."
Again, after a short interval, as we felt ourselves fording a stream, Raoul said:
"Yes, the San Juan--I know the stony bottom--just the depth, too, at this season."
Our mules plunged through the swift current, flinging the spray over our heads. We could feel the water up to the saddle-flaps, cold as ice; and yet we were journeying in the hot tropic. But we were fording a stream fed by the snows of Orizava.
"Now I am certain of the road," continued Raoul, after we had crossed.
"I know this bank well. The mule slides. Look out, Captain."
"For what?" I asked, with some anxiety.
The Frenchman laughed as he replied:
"I believe I am taking leave of my senses. I called to you to look out, as if you had the power to help yourself in case the accident should occur."
"What accidents?" I inquired, with a nervous sense of some impending danger.
"Falling over: we are on a precipice that is reckoned dangerous on account of the clay; if your mule should stumble here, the first thing you would strike would be the branches of some trees five hundred feet below, or thereabout."
"Good heaven!" I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed; "is it so?"
"Never fear, Captain; there is not much danger. These mules appear to be sure-footed; and certainly," he added, with a laugh, "their loads are well packed and tied."
I was in no condition just then to relish a joke, and my companion"s humour was completely thrown away upon me. The thought of my mule missing his foot and tumbling over a precipice, while I was stuck to him like a centaur, was anything else than pleasant. I had heard of such accidents, and the knowledge did not make the reflection any easier. I could not help muttering to myself:
"Why, in the name of mischief, did the fellow tell me this till we had pa.s.sed it?"
I crouched closer to the saddle, allowing my limbs to follow every motion of the animal, lest some counteracting shock might disturb our joint equilibrium. I could hear the torrent, as it roared and hissed far below, appearing directly under us; and the "sough" grew fainter and fainter as we ascended.
On we went, climbing up--up--up; our strong mules straining against the precipitous path. It was daybreak. There was a faint glimmer of light under our tapojos. At length we could perceive a brighter beam. We felt a sudden glow of heat over our bodies; the air seemed lighter; our mules walked on a horizontal path. We were on the ridge, and warmed by the beams of the rising sun.
"Thank heaven we have pa.s.sed it!"
I could not help feeling thus: and yet perhaps we were riding to an ignominious death!
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.
A DRINK A LA CHEVAL.
The guerilleros now halted and dismounted. We were left in our saddles.
Our mules were picketed upon long lazos, and commenced browsing. They carried us under the th.o.r.n.y branches of the wild locust. The maguey, with its bill-shaped claws, had torn our uniform overalls to shreds.
Our limbs were lacerated, and the cactus had lodged its poisoned p.r.i.c.kles in our knees. But these were nothing to the pain of being compelled to keep our saddles, or rather saddle-trees--for we were upon the naked wood. Our hips ached intensely, and our limbs smarted under the chafing thong.
There was a crackling of fires around us. Our captors were cooking their breakfasts, and chattering gaily over their chocolate. Neither food nor drink was offered to us, although we were both thirsty and hungry. We were kept in this place for about an hour.
"They have joined another party here," said Raoul, "with pack-mules."
"How know you?" I inquired.
"I can tell by the shouts of the arrieros. Listen!--they are making ready to start."
There was a mingling of voices--exclamations addressed to their animals by the arrieros, such as:
"_Mula! anda! vaya! levantate! carrai! mula--mulita!--anda!--st!--st_!"
In the midst of this din I fancied that I heard the voice of a woman.
"Can it be--?"
The thought was too painful.
A bugle at length sounded, and we felt ourselves again moving onward.
Our road appeared to run along the naked ridge. There were no trees, and the heat became intense. Our serapes, that had served us during the night, should have been dispensed with now, had we been consulted in relation to the matter. I did not know, until some time after, why these blankets had been given to us, as they had been hitherto very useful in the cold. It was not from any anxiety in regard to our comfort, as I learned afterwards.
We began to suffer from thirst, and Raoul asked one of the guerilleros for water.
"_Carajo_!" answered the man, "it"s no use: you"ll be choked by and by with something else than thirst."
The brutal jest called forth a peal of laughter from his comrades.
About noon we commenced descending a long hill. I could hear the sound of water ahead.
"Where are we, Raoul?" I inquired faintly.
"Going down to a stream--a branch of the Antigua."
"We are coming to another precipice?" I asked, with some uneasiness, as the roar of the torrent began to be heard more under our feet, and I snuffed the cold air from below.
"There is one, Captain. There is a good road, though, and well paved."
"Paved! why, the country around is wild--is it not?"
"True; but the road was paved by the priests."
"By the priests!" I exclaimed with some astonishment.
"Yes, Captain; there"s a convent in the valley, near the crossing; that is, there _was_ one. It is now a ruin."