The tension grew almost insupportable, when one of the soldiers who had a clear voice started the “Campanadas,” and the refrain, that spoke of grapes and kisses, rolled from four to four. Melodious as it was it seemed to jar with a horrible discordance upon the silence. Still, there was a chance that the troops might pass unscathed yet if their officers saw nothing, and it was with tingling nerves Appleby watched the fours swing by. Half the company had passed him now. Then there was a shout from one of the leading fours, and a sharp order, while a man came running along the line; and the files in front of Appleby stood still looking about them. He felt his eyes grow dim, and his fingers quiver on the rifle stock, while his heart throbbed painfully. Then a mounted officer appeared, apparently on a mule; there was another order, though Appleby had no notion what it was, and while the feet commenced to shuffle Maccario cried out. Appleby felt the rifle butt jar on his shoulder and the barrel jump in his hand, but saw nothing for a moment beyond wisps of drifting smoke. It hung about the aloes and obscured the road, but cries and execrations and orders came out of it, until the rifles of the Sin Verguenza flashed again. What happened to the cazadores was not apparent then, but it was evident that some at least survived, for there was a rush of feet in the smoke, and men with bayonets plunged in among the aloes. They failed to force a passage through the horrible spines, and another blast of riflery met them in the face as they floundered and rent themselves. They had done what men could do, for it was usually a leader’s blunder that involved the troops of Spain in defeat, but no flesh and blood unsheltered could face that withering fire, and some went down among the aloes, while the rest flung themselves upon the murderous rifles. Then the Sin Verguenza came out from their lair, and Appleby swung his hat off as he ran with a mob of ragged men behind him towards a slim, white‐clad officer who was standing in the road. It was in Castilian he shouted, but a bitter laugh and the flash of a pistol answered him, and there was a glint of steel as half‐seen men rallied about their leader. The rifles, however, flashed again, and the cluster of cazadores melted away as the Sin Verguenza poured out into the road. Appleby sprang over the fallen officer, and stood still gasping and conscious for the first time that his foot was paining him. Shadowy men were flying round the bend of the road but there were, so far as he could see, very few of them; while the glance he cast round him showed what had happened to the rest. “It doesn’t look nice,” said Harper, who appeared at his side. “Still, there’s a mule team down, and I’m kind of anxious to find out if they brought anything to eat along.”