He peered out of the
bushes, his face red, his eyes alight, his rifle ready for instant use.
But Obed placed one hand on his shoulder:
"Gently, Ned, gently!" he said. "We can't fight an entire Mexican army,
but if we slip away to some good position we can beat off any little
band that may find us."
It was evident that the Mexicans had lost the trail, for the time being.
They were still seeking the quarry but with much noise and confusion. A
trumpet was blown as if more help were needed. Officers shouted orders
to men, and men shouted to one another. Several shots were fired,
apparently at imaginary objects in the bushes.
"While they're running about and bumping into one another we'll regain a
little of our lost breath which we'll need badly later," said Obed. "We
can watch from here, and when they begin to approach then it's up and
away again."
Those were precious minutes. The ground was not good for the lancers who
usually advanced in mass, and, after the fall of one man and the
wounding of another, the soldiers on foot were not very zealous in
searching the thickets. The breathing of the two fugitives became easy
and regular once more. The roofs of their mouths were no longer hot and
dry, and their limbs did not tremble from excessive exertion.
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