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"We crossed the lowlands with that untired rapidity of movement which
had made Gaspar Ruiz' raids so famous. We followed the lower valleys
up to their precipitous heads. The ride was not without its dangers.
A cornice road on a perpendicular wall of basalt wound itself around a
buttressing rock, and at last we emerged from the gloom of a deep gorge
upon the upland of Pequena.
"It was a plain of green wiry grass and thin flowering bushes; but high
above our heads patches of snow hung in the folds and crevices of the
great walls of rock. The little lake was as round as a staring eye. The
garrison of the fort were just driving in their small herd of cattle
when we appeared. Then the great wooden gates swung to, and that
four-square enclosure of broad blackened stakes pointed at the top and
barely hiding the grass roofs of the huts inside seemed deserted, empty,
without a single soul.
"But when summoned to surrender, by a man who at Gaspar Ruiz' order rode
fearlessly forward those inside answered by a volley which rolled him
and his horse over.


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