ad no
alternative; I fired, and as he fell from his horse, the others galloped
into the glade.

"Forward! To the llanos!" cried Carmen; "they are close behind us. A
fellow tried to stop me, but I rode him down."

And then followed a neck-or-nothing race through the pass, which was more
like a furrow than a road, steep, stony, and full of holes, and being
overshadowed by trees, as dark as chaos. Only by the marvellous cleverness
of our unshod horses and almost miraculous good luck did we escape dire
disaster, if not utter destruction, for a single stumble might have been
fatal.

But Carmen, who made the running, knew what he was about. His seeming
rashness was the truest prudence. Our pursuers would either ride as hard
as we did or they would not; in the latter event we should have a good
start and be beyond their ken before they emerged from the pass; in the
former, there was always the off chance of one of the leading horsemen
coming to grief and some of the others falling over him, thereby delaying
them past the possibility of overtaking us.

Which of the contingencies came to pass, or whether the guerillas, not
having the fear of death behind them, rode less recklessly than we did, we
could form no idea. But their shouts gradually became fainter; when we
reached the llanos they were no more to be heard, and when the moon rose
an hour later none of our pursuers were to be seen. Nevertheless, we
pushed on, and except once, to let our animals drink and (relieved for a
moment of their saddles) refresh themselves with a roll, after the want of
Venezuelan horses, we drew not rein until we had put fifty miles between
ourselves and Generals Mejia and Griscelli.

CHAPTER XIX.

DON ESTEBAN'S DAUGHTER.

Ten days after our flight from San Felipe we were on the banks of the
Apure. We received a warm welcome from Carmen's friend, Senor Morillones,
a Spanish creole of the antique type, grave, courtly, and dignified, the
owner of many square miles of fertile land and hundreds of slaves, and as
rich in flocks and herds as Job in the heyday of his prosperity. He had a
large house, fine gardens, and troops of servants. A grand seigneur in
every sense of the word was Senor Don Esteban Morillones. His assurance
that he placed himself and his house and all that was his at our disposal
was no mere phrase. When he heard of our contemplated journey, he offered
us mules, arms, and whatever else we required and he possessed, an