The task was not an enviable one, and Juan made his preparations for it with a very ill grace, while a sinister smile played about the corners of his leader's face. However, delay was to be avoided if they wished to reach their quarters in safety, and very soon Roger was astride the horse, his ankles lashed together, while a rope was passed about his waist, securing him to Juan. The troop got in motion again, and, breaking into a canter--a movement which made riding comfortable and easy for our hero--bore straight across the open towards a distant town, that of Tlascala, where Cortes then resided, and where his brigantines were in course of construction. An hour later, as the party approached a little closer, and the wall which surrounded the town became clearly visible, some three hundred dark figures burst from a ravine a little to the left, and raced towards the horsemen, uttering shrill whistles and shouts. Roger turned his head, and thought he saw Teotlili at their head, while the dress of the natives proclaimed them as friends and allies of the Mexicans. Then an attempt at rescue was about to be made. His late captors were true to him. "Gallop! Lances down, and gallop!" The leader gave the order in high-pitched words, and then took his place at the head of the troop. "Surround the prisoner; and, Juan, do you lean well forward in the saddle, so as to stretch the prisoner and make movement difficult. Our men will protect you in front, while Pedro will hold his sword handy to slay the dog should he make an attempt to escape or to delay us." The advice given to Juan was undoubtedly good, for as the Spaniard carried out the movement, Roger found that the lashing about his ankles tautened, while the leaning-back attitude made struggling on his part almost out of the question. Still, he resolved to make an effort if the time came, even if a sword were held in his face. By now the troop was galloping at a sharp pace, the leader having selected a long stretch of open ground favourable to horses, and across this he led them at an angle which slightly inclined towards the Mexicans and their allies. It looked as if all his efforts were concentrated in an attempt to fly past them without giving them battle, and at the thought the natives swerved from their course, and raced to cut off the party. Soon they were so close that Roger could hear their voices, and stirred uneasily, till the man who threatened him with his sword placed the point close to his breast. "Stir so much as a finger's breadth and I thrust the blade home," he growled, while he looked askance at the enemy. "One hand's breadth, remember!" "Give us our god of air! Halt, and hand him over, when you may go free!" came a ringing voice from the natives. "Charge! To the left! To the left!"