Of course
Alvarado marched down the coast valleys, so old Carillo and his
neighbours are eatin' their breakfast in blissful ignorance."
"And shall we really see a great battle?" demanded Roldan, faintly. He
was pale, his nostrils 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.
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