THE PAMPAS. 



217 



apprize the rest of their danger, and then 

 endeavour to escape myself by a retreat. There 

 was no time for deliberation: I cocked both 

 my pistols, and prepared to have, at least, 

 one shot for my life, — when I heard Don 

 Joachim's sword ring against the saddle of 

 his horse, indicating that he had galloped on. 

 I followed instantly at speed, my rein on my 

 horse's neck, and a pistol held in each hand, 

 expecting every moment a cold lance through 

 my body. But the party of supposed Indians 

 only shouted as I passed, without following, 

 and I soon learnt that they were a picket from 

 Morro, on the look out for Indians, for whom 

 we had been at first taken by these lancers 

 themselves. 



Instead of riding to the post-hut, we made 

 our way, after much noise and challenging from 

 the sentries, to the quarters of the troops at 



VOL. I. L 



