Suddenly, the outlaws fired from the hip, with accurate aim. The bullets cut through the air. Many of Carmelita's Indians had wheeled under their horses at Pepita's cry of warning, thus saving themselves. However, not a few of the shots, flying low, found home in flesh and bone of both man and beast. The hoarse cry of stricken horses drowned the moan of fallen men. Confusion reigned among the raw recruits from the Mendoza hacienda, for the first time facing veterans. Wounded horses threshing from side to side, or struggling backward or forward, added disorder to disorder. A fierce exhilaration possessed the señorita as the leaden whispers of death parted before her face. The heritage of twenty generations asserted itself, bringing with it the intoxication of battle and the genius of generalship. As there was no fear in her heart, so was there, for the time being, no room for sorrow at the suffering and death about her. She knew only a vehement desire to dash upon Stanislaus, beat him to the dust, scatter destruction over his men, ride triumphantly back to the foothills, and return the peonas to the arms of their matronas. The confusion among the hacienda workmen became a panic. "Escape!" one yelled, and spurred his horse to safety. One after another burst from the ranks, to follow like frightened sheep. Volley after volley whistled after them from the outlaws' pistols and carbines. Derisive yells and laughter came from the seasoned fighters. A figure darted past the fleeing peons. A horse was brought up across the road in front of them, and Carmelita faced the retreating mob. "Back to the cañon's mouth!" she commanded. "I'll shoot the man who yields another step," pointing significantly to her rifle. Her eyes blazed with terrible insistence, her face chalk-white with passion. The terrified peons paused. To their superstitious natures their young mistress was become a threatening god from another world. "The cañon's mouth is the mouth of hell," some one found courage to say. "It is the gate of deliverance for the girls those renegades have stolen. Back to the pass, hombres! Back to the pass! and fight till the death!" She waved her rifle over her head. "Back to the pass, hombres, and make rescue!" She turned her horse toward the cañon. "Follow me!" She went forward. The men obeyed. From a walk, they urged their horses into a gallop, then into topmost speed. The dispirited rabble became a fighting battalion. Stanislaus, in curiosity to see what had become of the column so rashly attacking him, had moved back into the wake of the retreating peons. The hoof-thunder of horses tempestuously advancing caused him to throw his force into a hollow square, fearing that some body of capable soldiery, having tracked him, was about to make a charge on him.