The Valiant Runaways [62]
were twitching, "Alvarado! Castro! Micheltorena!"
"Well, you kin, if you bolt that there breakfast. The horses'll be here
in about twenty minutes, and a battle's somethin' I'm pinin' to see,
too."
The boys ate their breakfast rapidly and in silence. A half hour later
they were galloping furiously for Los Angeles, escorted by the equally
enthusiastic Hill. The river was low and quiet. The horses swam it
without let from tide or snag. Even Adan forgot to cross himself. Beyond
was the high hill that lies directly to the north of Los Angeles. Its
surface seemed in motion; it looked like a huge ant-hill.
"Them's women," said Hill, a few moments after they had left the river
behind them. "Women and children. The fight must be on. Hist! Do you
hear that?"
All three reined in. The sound of cannonading, distant but distinct,
came to their ears. Without a word they lashed their mustangs and made
for the city. They entered it in a few moments. It looked like a
necropolis. Not a human being was to be seen. They spurred back to the
hill and began the ascent, then paused for a few moments. It was a wild
and tragic scene. Hundreds of women and children, their hair streaming
in the high wind, were kneeling with uplifted crosses, praying aloud,
when they were not weeping. A few men, Americans, were passing to and
fro among them, administering encouragement; but their gaze also was
directed anxiously to the north.
Hill dismounted and approached one of the Americans, conferred with him
a moment, then returned to the impatient boys.
"They are fightin' in the San Fernando valley, three leagues to the
north," he said. "We've got no time to lose."
They were less than an hour reaching the battlefield. During that hour
Roldan scarcely knew how he felt. When he left the hacienda he was
possessed by an intense curiosity only; but with that first dull boom
something new and fierce had leapt to life within him. Every few moments
his fingers moved round to the hip-pocket that held his pistols. The
weeping women and children had made him quiver from head to foot. As
they approached the battlefield, and powder-smoke mingled with the green
fragrance of winter, he thought that his nostrils would burst. His ear-
drums were splitting with the thunder of cannon. Suddenly Hill caught
him by the arm.
"Look!" he cried. "There be Alvarado and Castro over there, and
Micheltorena on t' other side. Ain't they magnificent specimens? Why,
what's the matter?"
"Let me go!" said Roldan. His face was deeply flushed, his eyes blazed.
"Come, Adan! come, Adan!" he shouted. "An Alvarado! an Alvarado!"
"Holy smoke!" cried Hill. "You don't say you're meanin' to fight after
sweatin' fur a month to git clear of the hull business?"
But Roldan, grasping the bridle of the less enthusiastic Adan, was
already far ahead. The boys rode straight into the melee, firing through
the smoke until their ammunition was exhausted. Even Adan after the
first few moments lost all sense of fear, and following Roldan's
example, snatched the gun from a fallen soldier and fired and reloaded
until his hands were blistered, and his eyes half sightless with smoke.
Roldan, obeying his dominant instinct, pushed his way rapidly to the
front, attracting much attention. Some one recognised him, and during
one of the many pauses of this not very systematic and furious battle
some one cheered the little don. The cheer was taken up vociferously. It
boomed across the battlefield. A moment later a man came dashing across
with a flag of truce: the cheering was supposed by the enemy to herald
the advance of reinforcements. The truce was accepted without
explanations, and Roldan was hurried into the presence of Alvarado. That
famous governor was sitting on a magnificent charger, caparisoned with
carved leather, red velvet, silver, and gold. His black eyes were
smiling, although the rest of his pale stern face was composed.
"So this is the runaway," he said. "I demanded you from your father, and
he was much embarrassed to confess
"Well, you kin, if you bolt that there breakfast. The horses'll be here
in about twenty minutes, and a battle's somethin' I'm pinin' to see,
too."
The boys ate their breakfast rapidly and in silence. A half hour later
they were galloping furiously for Los Angeles, escorted by the equally
enthusiastic Hill. The river was low and quiet. The horses swam it
without let from tide or snag. Even Adan forgot to cross himself. Beyond
was the high hill that lies directly to the north of Los Angeles. Its
surface seemed in motion; it looked like a huge ant-hill.
"Them's women," said Hill, a few moments after they had left the river
behind them. "Women and children. The fight must be on. Hist! Do you
hear that?"
All three reined in. The sound of cannonading, distant but distinct,
came to their ears. Without a word they lashed their mustangs and made
for the city. They entered it in a few moments. It looked like a
necropolis. Not a human being was to be seen. They spurred back to the
hill and began the ascent, then paused for a few moments. It was a wild
and tragic scene. Hundreds of women and children, their hair streaming
in the high wind, were kneeling with uplifted crosses, praying aloud,
when they were not weeping. A few men, Americans, were passing to and
fro among them, administering encouragement; but their gaze also was
directed anxiously to the north.
Hill dismounted and approached one of the Americans, conferred with him
a moment, then returned to the impatient boys.
"They are fightin' in the San Fernando valley, three leagues to the
north," he said. "We've got no time to lose."
They were less than an hour reaching the battlefield. During that hour
Roldan scarcely knew how he felt. When he left the hacienda he was
possessed by an intense curiosity only; but with that first dull boom
something new and fierce had leapt to life within him. Every few moments
his fingers moved round to the hip-pocket that held his pistols. The
weeping women and children had made him quiver from head to foot. As
they approached the battlefield, and powder-smoke mingled with the green
fragrance of winter, he thought that his nostrils would burst. His ear-
drums were splitting with the thunder of cannon. Suddenly Hill caught
him by the arm.
"Look!" he cried. "There be Alvarado and Castro over there, and
Micheltorena on t' other side. Ain't they magnificent specimens? Why,
what's the matter?"
"Let me go!" said Roldan. His face was deeply flushed, his eyes blazed.
"Come, Adan! come, Adan!" he shouted. "An Alvarado! an Alvarado!"
"Holy smoke!" cried Hill. "You don't say you're meanin' to fight after
sweatin' fur a month to git clear of the hull business?"
But Roldan, grasping the bridle of the less enthusiastic Adan, was
already far ahead. The boys rode straight into the melee, firing through
the smoke until their ammunition was exhausted. Even Adan after the
first few moments lost all sense of fear, and following Roldan's
example, snatched the gun from a fallen soldier and fired and reloaded
until his hands were blistered, and his eyes half sightless with smoke.
Roldan, obeying his dominant instinct, pushed his way rapidly to the
front, attracting much attention. Some one recognised him, and during
one of the many pauses of this not very systematic and furious battle
some one cheered the little don. The cheer was taken up vociferously. It
boomed across the battlefield. A moment later a man came dashing across
with a flag of truce: the cheering was supposed by the enemy to herald
the advance of reinforcements. The truce was accepted without
explanations, and Roldan was hurried into the presence of Alvarado. That
famous governor was sitting on a magnificent charger, caparisoned with
carved leather, red velvet, silver, and gold. His black eyes were
smiling, although the rest of his pale stern face was composed.
"So this is the runaway," he said. "I demanded you from your father, and
he was much embarrassed to confess