General Liniers had hardly completed the inspection of his forces, and the British were yet more than half-a-league distant, when Marcelino saw them halt. They had reached the crest of a lomada, from which the ground sloped gently towards the position occupied by the army of Buenos Aires, and which stretched away westwards as far as eye could reach, running nearly parallel to the course of the Riachuelo. On resuming the march, the hostile column left the highroad and turned off westwards, following the course of this lomada. Liniers, fearing to be taken in flank, immediately commenced a corresponding movement to his right. Both armies thus marched parallel to each other, retaining much their former relative position, but hidden from each other by the rising ground and by the various chacras and plantations which lay scattered about. The British, marching on the high ground, met with few obstacles to their progress, while the Buenos Airean army had to force its way through swamps and the many water-courses which intersected the low-lying grounds between the lomada and the Riachuelo. Through these swamps the men waded knee-deep in mud; in the water-courses many of them sank up to their elbows, wetting their ammunition. After more than a league of this toilsome marching they reached firmer ground, where the lomada approached nearer to the course of the river; here they found that the British had again halted behind the crest of the lomada. Again Liniers drew up his array, and the citizen soldiers forgot the sufferings of the rapid march and the cold which pierced them to the bones in their eagerness to close at once with the foe. The British screened their movements by the rising ground, but the gleam of bayonets to the right of their position showed that some manoeuvre was in preparation. Then skirmishers in the dark-green uniform of the rifles moved rapidly forward on the high ground. An aide-de-camp from General Liniers came at headlong speed to the left centre, where stood the "Morenos de Ponce." He delivered an order to the commandant of that corps. Marcelino, wheeling his horse, addressed a few words to his men, then, waving his sword, the negroes with a loud shout rushed forward, and, breaking into skirmishing order, ran swiftly up the slope. The British rifles received them with a spattering fire, then hurriedly retreated to the crest of the lomada, and formed in line. A few notes on the bugle and Marcelino had his men all again together, and, telling them to reserve their fire, led them on. The dark line of soldiery gave way before them and marched rapidly off. The negroes broke their ranks and rushed after them with loud yells. On the crest of the rising ground Marcelino drew rein, and----Where was the British army? Half stupefied, he gazed over the vacant plain before him. All of the enemy that he could see was this small body of light-armed riflemen, who were in rapid retreat, pursued by his own negroes.