CHAPTER NINETEEN.
A HERCULEAN FEAT.
The whole skirmish did not occupy two minutes.

It was like most charges of Mexican cavalry--a dash, a wild yelling, half a dozen empty saddles, and a hasty retreat.
The guerilleros had swerved off as soon as they perceived that we had gained a safe position, and the bullets of our reloaded pieces began to whistle around their ears.

Dubrosc alone, in his impetuosity, galloped close up to the inclosure; and it was only on perceiving himself alone, and the folly of exposing himself thus fruitlessly, that he wheeled round and followed the Mexicans.

The latter were now out upon the prairie, beyond the range of small-arms, grouped around their wounded comrades, or galloping to and fro, with yells of disappointed vengeance.
I entered the corral, where most of my men had sheltered themselves behind the stockades.

Little Jack sat upon Twidget, reloading his rifle, and trying to appear insensible to the flattering encomiums that hailed him from all sides.