I assure you that, without the assistance of these Mexicans, we shall not be able to catch a single mule." The major, seeing that all eyes were fixed upon him, suddenly straightened himself up in his stirrups, and, swelling with courage and importance, declared, "If that was the case, he would go himself." Then, calling upon "Doc" to follow him, he struck the spurs into Hercules, and rode forward at a gallop.
It proved that this was just the very course to start the vaqueros, as the major had inspired them with more terror than all the rest of our party.

They showed evident symptoms of taking to their heels, and I shouted to them at the top of my voice: "_Alto! somos amigos_!" (Halt! we are friends).
The words were scarcely out of my mouth when the Mexicans drove the rowels into their mustangs, and galloped off as if for their lives in the direction of the corral.
The major followed at a slashing pace, Doc bringing up the rear; while the basket which the latter carried over his arm began to eject its contents, scattering the commissariat of the major over the prairie.
Fortunately, the hospitality of Don Cosme had already provided a substitute for this loss.
After a run of about half a mile Hercules began to gain rapidly upon the mustangs, whereas Doc was losing distance in an inverse ratio.

The Mexicans had got within a couple of hundred yards of the rancho, the major not over a hundred in their rear, when I observed the latter suddenly pull up, and, jerking the long body of Hercules round, commence riding briskly back, all the while looking over his shoulder towards the in closure.
The vaqueros did not halt at the corral, as we expected, but kept across the prairie, and disappeared among the trees on the opposite side.
"What the deuce has got into Blossom ?" inquired Clayley; "he was clearly gaining upon them.

The old bloat must have burst a blood-vessel.".