Instantly the two would lie flat on their faces until the man moved away, when the painful progress would be resumed.
The slightest forgetfulness was certain to prove fatal, for the Mexicans, knowing the desperate straits of the Americans, must have been expecting some such attempt and were therefore more than usually watchful.
Once a mounted Mexican rode close to the prostrate figures, sprang off his horse and lit his cigarette.

He was so close that the tiny flame showed his nose and features, as it was held in front of his face, while lighting the twist of tobacco.

During that most trying moment, as Kit Carson afterwards declared, he distinctly heard the beating of Lieutenant Beale's heart.
There seemed no escape but finally the horseman drove away and the painful progress was continued for fully two miles, during which both men were constantly peering through the darkness for signs of danger.
Again and again they were compelled to halt, and lying flat on their faces, wait till their fate was determined.
"We are through," whispered Carson at last, when considerable distance beyond the last row of sentinels.
"Thank heaven!" exclaimed Lieutenant Beale in the same guarded voice.
"Now we'll put on our shoes and travel as fast as we know how to San Diego--" The mountaineer paused in dismay, for, while creeping over the plain, he had lost both his shoes that were thrust in his belt.

The Lieutenant had been equally unfortunate, and, as it was utterly out of their power to recover them, they could only push on barefooted, over a soil that abounded with thorns and prickly pears.

As these could not be seen in the darkness, their feet were soon wounded to a distressing degree.