ct himself, he staggered towards it and picked it up.
Then, as if by instinct, he passed his hand into his pouch and coolly
commenced loading.

While Raoul was busy with Clayley and the Irishman, I had risen to my
feet and looked back over the prairie. The rain was falling in
torrents, and the lightning still flashed at intervals. At the distance
of fifty paces a black mass was lying upon the ground motionless--a mass
of men and horses, mingled together as they had fallen in their tracks.
Here and there a single horse and his rider lay prostrate together.
Beyond these, twenty or thirty horsemen were galloping in circles over
the plain, and vainly endeavouring to head their frightened steeds
towards the point where we were. These, like Raoul, had escaped the
stroke.

"Come!" cried the Frenchman, who had now resuscitated Clayley and Chane;
"we have not a moment to lose. The mustangs will get over their fright,
and these fellows will be down upon us."

His advice was instantly followed, and before the guerilleros could
manage their scared horses we had entered the thicket, and were crawling
along under the wet leaves.

CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

A BRIDGE OF MONKEYS.

Raoul thought that their superstition might prevent the enemy from
pursuing us farther. They would consider the lightning as an
interference from above--a stroke of the _hrazos de Dios_. But we had
little confidence in this, and, notwithstanding our exhaustion, toiled
on through the chaparral. Wearied with over-exertion, half-famished--
for we had only commenced eating when roused from our repast in the
morning--wet to the skin, cut by the bushes, and bitten by the poisoned
teeth of the bloodhounds--blinded, and bruised, and bleeding, we were in
but poor travelling condition.

Even Lincoln, whose buoyancy had hitherto borne up, appeared cowed and
broken. For the first mile or two he seemed vexed at something and "out
of sorts", stopping every now and again, and examining his rifle in a
kind of bewilderment.

Feeling that he was once more "in the timber", he began to come to
himself.

"Thet sort o' an enemy's new ter me," he said, speaking to Raoul.
"Dog-gone the thing! it makes the airth look yeller!"

"You'll see better by and by," replied his comrade.

"I had need ter, Rowl, or I'll butt my brainpan agin one of these hyur
saplin's. Wagh! I cudn't sight a b'ar, if we were to scare him up jest
now."

About five miles farther on we reach