I had been sleeping for some time, when I was awakened by the sound of firing. No one was in the tent, for, in spite of his illness, Captain Brown had joined his regiment and gone to the front. Weak as I was, I thought that I could manage to crawl up to some neighbouring height, from whence I might see what was going forward. The sound of the rattling of musketry now came up the valley, with the louder boom of our artillery, so I could resist the temptation no longer. Supporting myself on a stick, therefore, with a spy-glass hanging by a strap over my shoulders, I left the tent and made my way on, sometimes crawling on my hands and knees, until I reached a rock overhanging the camp, where I could lie down and rest the glass on a ledge just above me. Our troops crowned the heights of the opposite side of the valley. It was not of sufficient elevation, however, to prevent me seeing over it on to the plain beyond, where the Pastucians were moving, endeavouring to force their way to the northward--their main body attacking our centre, while other divisions were marching to the right and left, evidently with the hope of outflanking the Patriots. I could clearly distinguish the different corps. The centre stood their ground. Juan with his cavalry drove back the enemy on the right; while the Cauca regiment, charging, prevented the body threatening our left flank from gaining the advantage they expected. Frequently the Pastucians were so near that their shot came flying across the valley; but, their powder not being of the best, the bullets had by that time expended their force. Among their leaders I saw several friars; and, mounted on a fine horse, I recognised the bishop. He and his stalwart secretary had crucifixes in their left hands and bright swords in their right, which they kept vehemently flourishing. Now the bishop would hold up his crucifix, and now point with his sword at the Patriots. Then the enemy, with shrieks and shouts, would charge right up to our men; but on each occasion they were driven back with dreadful slaughter. Two or three monks were knocked over; still the bishop and his lieutenant seemed to bear charmed lives. Perhaps superstition had something to do with it, and our men were afraid to fire at a right reverend prelate. At times I feared that the Patriots would give way, and on one occasion the bishop and his followers had nearly succeeded in breaking our line; but the regiment of the Cauca coming up, flushed with their previous success, charged the enemy and drove them back headlong--the bishop and his secretary, the ex-captain of dragoons, setting the example, and scampering off at a rate which made it difficult to overtake them. I expected to see Juan's troopers in pursuit, but he was meanwhile hotly engaged with a body of the enemy's cavalry, which after a sharp contest he defeated,--though they rallied again to cover the retreat of the bishop.