urt, and the
skirmish, in the new character of a commissioned officer; but respect
for the epaulet, and a few friendly words addressed to him by Velasquez,
dissipated his angry feelings, if such indeed he still harboured, and he
marched peaceably along beside the stirrup of his former opponent.

Steadily and silently the little party continued its march, winding like
some dark and many-jointed snake over the inequalities of the ground,
now disappearing in the hollow of a ravine, then toiling its way up
rugged mountain sides. The road had long been abandoned, and only here
and there the adventurous troop were able to avail themselves of a cart
track or country lane, whose deep ruts, however, rendered it but little
preferable to the fields and waste land over which they at other times
proceeded. After leaving the immediate vicinity of Pampeluna, and during
several hours' march, but few words were exchanged between any of the
party, and those few were uttered in a cautious whisper. Although the
pace was a killing one, no man had flagged or straggled; when at last,
after completing a tortuous and rugged descent, the Mochuelo commanded a
halt. The place where this occurred was in a narrow gorge between two
lines of hills, or it should rather be said of mountains; for although
their altitude was only here and there very considerable, their cragged
and precipitous conformation and rocky material entitled them to the
latter denomination. The passage between them continued narrow only for
a few hundred yards, after which, at either of its extremities, the
mountains receded, and the valley opened into plains of some extent. To
the right of the defile was a considerable tract of undulating and
wooded country; the level on the left extended to a less distance,
before the hills, closing in again, restricted it within narrow limits.

The thick clouds which had veiled the sky during the early part of the
night, had now broken and dispersed, the stars shone out and disclosed
the outline of surrounding objects, assuming in the dim light all manner
of fantastic forms. A cool wind, the forerunner of morning, swept across
the valley, bringing pleasant refreshment to the heated soldiery, as
they leaned upon their muskets and waited the orders of their chief. On
either hand videttes were advanced, keeping vigilant watch. El Mochuelo
exchanged a few words with Paco and the Tuerto, and then turned to
Herrera.

"We are now," said the guerilla