n to think the major might be right.

As we entered the defile there came a great shout of "Viva el Rey!"
from the plains ahead, and the next instant the Royalist horsemen,
thirteen hundred strong, and led by Canterac himself, dashed madly to
the attack.

"Viva! viva!" they yelled, cutting and thrusting with sabre and lance.
The onset was like a mighty avalanche, and our men were for the most
part overwhelmed. A few of the strongest and best mounted cut their
way through, but numbers were overthrown, and the rest came flying
back, with the victorious Royalists slashing and cutting on all sides.

"By St. Philip," muttered Plaza, "we shall be swept away."

Our colonel, seeing the danger, manoeuvred us into an angle of the
marsh, just as the mob of horsemen, friend and foe inextricably mixed,
swarmed down, shouting, struggling, fighting.

"Forward! forward!" yelled the exultant Royalists, sweeping past like a
whirlwind.

Farther away on the left, another body was driving Miller's men into
the swamp, and it seemed that the Patriot cavalry must be annihilated.
But our squadron remained untouched, and leading us into the plain,
Suares issued an order to charge the Royalists who were handling
Miller's troops so roughly.

"We must win or die, my lads!" he cried; "the country depends on us."

The men cheered with a will and shook their sabres; we settled more
firmly in our saddles; the colonel rode to the front; the squadron
moved forward and broke into a trot. Men and officers alike knew that
our leader had spoken no more than the truth. We must win or die! On
us alone hung the issue of the battle. If we failed, hardly a man of
the Patriot cavalry would leave the field alive; if we won, the
Royalists must stop the pursuit in order to help their comrades.

It was a heavy task, but one thought cheered and nerved us. We were
all Peruvians belonging to the Legion, and it was but fitting that the
desperate venture should fall to us. How our infantry battalion would
cheer, how proudly they would greet us, should we return victorious!
It would be glorious to show both friends and enemies that the
Peruvians could strike a stout blow in their own defence.

"Gallop!"

We received the order with a cheer, bent low in the saddle, and grasped
our sabres firmly. Suares knew his work, and led us across a wide
stretch of smooth, firm ground, the very spot for a cavalry charge.

Finding themselves between two foes, the Roya