ing, panting horses
and the Carlists rapidly neared a small river, which, rising in some of
the adjacent mountains, flowed in rear of the little hill already
referred to, and parallel to the sierra whence Count Villabuena and his
companions had recently descended. The land, for some distance on either
side of the stream, was uncultivated, covered with furze and yellow
broom, and sprinkled with trees and clumps of high bushes. Across the
river, only a few months previously, a rude but solid stone bridge had
afforded a passage; but the bridge had been broken down soon after the
commencement of the war, and the stream, which, although not more than
seven or eight yards broad, was deep, and had steep high banks was now
traversed by means of four planks, laid side by side, but not fastened
together, and barely wide enough to give passage to a bullock cart. Over
this imperfect and rickety causeway, the retreating Carlists galloped,
the boards bending and creaking beneath their horses' feet. When all had
passed, Don Baltasar flung himself from his saddle, and aided by the
gipsy and by several of his men who had also dismounted, seized the
planks, and strove, by main strength, to tear their extremities from the
clay in which they were embedded. The Christinos, who were within a
couple of hundred yards of the river, set up a shout of fury when they
perceived the intention of their enemies. By the sinewy hands of
Baltasar and his soldiers, three of the boards were torn from the earth
and flung into the stream. The fourth gave way as Herrera came up, the
first man of his party, and, regardless of the narrow footing it
afforded, was about to risk the perilous voyage. Violently curbing his
horse, he but just escaped falling headlong into the stream. A shout of
exultation from the Carlists, and the discharge of several carbines
greeted the disappointed Christinos, who promptly returned the fire;
whilst, as was usual when they came within earshot, the complimentary
epithets of "Sons of Priests," and "_Soldados de la Puta_," accompanied
by volleys of imprecations, were bandied between the soldiers on either
side of the stream.

"Is there any bridge or ford at hand?" said Baltasar hastily to the
gipsy.

"None within a quarter of a league," was the reply.

"Then we will have a shot at them."

Herrera and Count Villabuena were again opposed to each other, and each
acknowledged the other's presence by a brief smile of recognition.

A