At
The Dead Of Night We Were Aroused From Our Sleep By A Cry That The
Factious Were Not Far Off.
A messenger had arrived from the
alcalde of the village where we had previously intended staying,
who stated that a party of Carlists had just surprised that place,
and were searching for an English spy, whom they supposed to be at
the inn.
The officer commanding the soldiers upon hearing this,
not deeming his own situation a safe one, instantly drew off his
men, falling back on a stronger party stationed in a fortified
village near at hand. As for ourselves, we saddled our horses and
continued our way in the dark. Had the Carlists succeeded in
apprehending me, I should instantly have been shot, and my body
cast on the rocks to feed the vultures and wolves. But "it was not
so written," said Antonio, who, like many of his countrymen, was a
fatalist. The next night we had another singular escape: we had
arrived near the entrance of a horrible pass called "El puerto de
la puente de las tablas," or the pass of the bridge of planks,
which wound through a black and frightful mountain, on the farther
side of which was the town of Onas, where we meant to tarry for the
night. The sun had set about a quarter of an hour. Suddenly a
man, with his face covered with blood, rushed out of the pass.
"Turn back, sir," he said, "in the name of God; there are murderers
in that pass; they have just robbed me of my mule and all I
possess, and I have hardly escaped with life from their hands." I
scarcely know why, but I made him no answer and proceeded; indeed I
was so weary and unwell that I cared not what became of me.
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