rose up some
fifteen or twenty feet above their heads, amply sufficient to shelter
them from the sight of the enemy who lay away on either side, while now
as they journeyed along the rocky bed, with the rattle of the wheels
multiplied by the echoes, nothing was visible a hundred yards ahead, and
as fast as one angle was turned there lay another a short distance in
front.

But they were descending towards the plains; the plashing stream as it
hurried along taught them that, and at the end of about a quarter of a
mile of little interrupted progress they were cheered on by the fact
that the rocks on either side grew lower, rapidly ceasing to afford them
protection, and before long hardly rising to their shoulders.

There was another turn, and then another, and then Marcus cried eagerly:

"The hills are seeming to get farther away, Serge, and we must soon be
out in the plain. I wonder what's beyond that turning."

"Open ground, I should say, my lad," said the old soldier, gravely; "but
we must take care. We want the open ground for the horses, but not for
ourselves."

"I don't understand you," cried Marcus, sharply.

"I spoke plainly enough, boy. I meant this: no shelter for us, don't
you see, and if the enemy look back some of them may turn and come in
pursuit."

"Ah, of course," cried Marcus. "Well, if they do, and catch us, you
will have to fight, Serge, and drive them back."

"That's right, my boy, and I'll do my best: but if I do, and get the
worst of it, you never mind but go right on."

"Yes," said Marcus, drily, "when you are ready to come too."

Serge grunted with satisfaction, and then, possibly from the solemnity
of the desolate place along which they travelled, they tramped silently
along over the rocky bed, their footsteps and those of the horses being
the only sounds as they neared the sharp angle where the stream bed
seemed to open out.

Marcus said afterwards that Serge should have been more cautious, and
Serge retorted that Marcus was captain and ought to have sent on a scout
in front. But as it was, the scout who acted, sent on himself, and that
scout was Lupe, who, attracted by the openness of the rocks in front,
suddenly bounded forward with a cheery bark, sending the water flying,
and exciting the ponies into starting forward at a canter.

Almost involuntarily the holders of their reins let go and, acting as if
on one impulse, caught at the sides of the chariot and sprang in,
steady