It was only by a miracle that he escaped injury. Branch
reined in his horse, examined the wreck, then with a petulant
exclamation cast the useless frame away.
"Come on, Johnnie," Judson growled. "The damn fool wants to get
shot."
The sick man's bravado roused in O'Reilly a feeling of mingled
resentment and apprehension, but further warning would obviously
be a waste of breath. Nevertheless, being a little too tender-
hearted to follow Judson's nonchalant example and ride on,
O'Reilly held in his horse, meanwhile keeping an anxious eye upon
his friend.
The latter was in no hurry; he jogged along leisurely, evidently
on the lookout for an opportunity to replenish his wardrobe. Truth
to say, this needed replenishing--Leslie resembled a scarecrow
clad in a suit of soiled pajamas. But by this time most of the
shops had their shutters up. When the last one had been left
behind O'Reilly spurred his horse into a gallop, relieved to know
that the worst was over.
The raiders had approached San Antonio de los Banos across the
fields at the rear, but Colonel Lopez led their retreat by way of
the camino real which followed the riverbank. This road for a
short distance was exposed to the fire from one fort; then it was
sheltered by a bit of rising ground.
O'Reilly, among the last to cross the zone of fire, was just
congratulating himself upon the fortunate outcome of the skirmish
when he saw Colonel Lopez ride to the crest of a knoll, rise in
his stirrups and, lifting his cupped hands to his lips, direct a
loud shout back toward the town.
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