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!" 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!" Crash! 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.