Robert rode off, skirting the eastern edge of Columbeira, and entered the gorge. Now that he was in the ravine, he was better able to see what had happened. The high ground protruded to some extent around the dry streambeds that had cut the gorges, and as the cut slanted left, it exposed the attacking troops to fire on three sides. Nonetheless, they had forced their way a considerable distance up.

Just as he realized it would be unwise to push his horse much farther up, Robert heard voices above him. Most were indistinguishable shouts, but among those were a few voices crying "Friend." Apparently Lake and his men had gained the heights, and the troops facing them were not determined to hold out. That, however, was no guarantee that other enemy troops in the vicinity would feel the same. Lake's one regiment, which must have taken considerable losses, could not hold the ground alone. They would need General Hill's a.s.sistance. Robert turned back and made the best speed he could, calling out for information about General Hill's position as he rode.

He found the general on the extreme right, where, having already noted the movement of the Twenty-ninth, he had just directed the light companies of his brigade and the first battalion of the Fifth Regiment to start up the most westerly of the ravines. He listened to Robert's report and Sir Arthur's order and nodded calmly.

"You may tell Sir Arthur," he said to Robert, "that I will take the Ninth up myself. You may also say that I have begun an a.s.sault on the far right, as it is impossible, in my opinion, to wait for the flanking parties without losing the Twenty-ninth entirely."

As he spoke, General Hill urged his horse into motion. Robert wasted no time himself, knowing that the sooner the entire army was in motion, the better it would be for all. By the time he reached Sir Arthur, however, all units except the reserve were already in motion.

"Do you know just where the Twenty-ninth is?" Sir Arthur asked after he had acknowledged Robert's report. His voice was raised, for the general and his staff had closed in as the troops moved forward and the intermittent boom of the artillery was now only a background to a rising roar made up of shouts, screams, and the constant explosions of muskets.

"Yes, sir," Robert shouted in reply.

"Very well, then, follow General Hill up and tell him I am moving one of Crawfurd's battalions to cover Columbeira. If the Twenty-ninth is not able to re-form and Lake needs Hill's support, he may send down for them."

Not able to re-form? Obviously Sir Arthur had seen some action on the heights that had fulfilled Robert's fears of the regiment's inability to hold the position. Robert had seen that the Twenty-ninth had taken losses, but they were not so severe in his judgment as to make it impossible to re-form.

Robert made directly for the place he had seen Hill enter when he rode back earlier with his message to Sir Arthur The gorge wall that had then looked impa.s.sable was now open at an angle, a cannonball having taken down a small tree and the pa.s.sage of a number of men having leveled the brush and beaten down the earth somewhat. Beyond was a small wood in which some wounded men, who had retreated there for what shelter they could find, were lying.

After pulling up his horse to let the animal breathe, Robert looked around for a man capable of answering his questions. Before he could ask, however, a tremendous noise broke out above and to the left. Robert opened the saddle holsters of his guns, but he did not draw them, being uncertain about exactly what the violent eruption of gunfire portended. His movement in the direction of the noise was almost immediately blocked by a group of men stumbling down the precipitous hill in retreat.

"Hold up!" Robert bellowed. "Stop."

To his intense delight, they did stop as soon as they reached the shelter of the wood, but he could see others coming down. "Move back," he ordered. "Make room for your fellows. Now, face about. Reload." He drew his saber.

"'M' out o'bullets, sir," one man shouted.

"Anyone short of ammunition, help himself to the bullet bags and powder horns of the wounded," Robert ordered.

More and more men were pouring down the hill into the shelter of the wood, but as soon as they saw their fellows standing quietly or busy scavenging ammunition or reloading their pieces, they too steadied. After about fifteen minutes the flow downhill stopped. Although there had been a pretty free play of bullets into the wood at first, that tapered off without doing any damage.

Robert looked around and judged that he had about a hundred soldiers and that they were not beaten men. Indeed, from the remarks he heard, he was sure that they were ready, in fact, determined, to a.s.sault the French again. However, there did not seem to be any officer with them. Robert would have loved to lead the attack himself, but he dared not. His duty was to continue his search for General Hill, particularly because the reserves might be necessary. On the other hand, he did not like to leave the men without any officer in charge.

"Has anyone-" he began when a horse burst through the brush on the far side of the wood.

"Who's in charge here?" the officer roared.

Robert recognized Captain Leach of the Ninety-fifth, which surprised him since the men in the wood were mixed companies of the Twenty-ninth and the Ninth. Normally an officer confined his attentions to his own men, but Leach might have been sent by a superior officer to try to stem what looked like a rout.

"The men halted on my command, Captain Leach," Robert called.

By then Leach was already headed in his direction, having spotted the single mounted man. They met about midway, in front of the troops, some of whom were leaning on their guns and others sitting on the ground catching their breaths. As they approached one another, Leach recognized Robert.

"Why the devil don't you get yourself a line regiment, Moreton?" he asked, laughing. "Every time I look around, there you are in the midst of the action, waving a pistol or a sword."

"M' father won't hear of-" Robert's voice was drowned as a cannonball hit a tree with a tremendous crash and rolled among the men slowly enough, owing to its original impact, for them to step aside, "-it," he continued, curbing his horse, which had taken violent exception to the sudden increase and change in the noise. "And m' mother has the vapors every time she sees me in regimentals."

"And you went and married?" Leach remarked with mild astonishment.

"Merry's not like that at all!" Robert exclaimed.

Another cannonball crashed through the trees. This one did not strike any object large enough to impede its progress and rushed in among the men. The sound had given warning, however. Some dodged, some threw themselves flat on the ground. One man was bruised as the ball barely touched his shoulder going by, but no one was seriously hurt.

"One's a mistake," Leach said, "but two means they've found us." He turned his head toward the men. "On your feet, there," he bellowed. "Form into your companies, smart."

"Do you know where General Hill is?" Robert asked, holding Hermes on a tight rein.

"On the left wing," Leach replied.

"I'm off, then." Robert gave a casual salute and loosened his reins. Hermes bounded forward, but Robert had to curb him almost immediately, the ground being unsafe for too rapid movement. His eyes were busy between watching the ground and seeking General Hill, but his mind had somehow stuck on his statement that, "Merry's not like that at all." It was true. Merry never made a fuss. She never had, right from the beginning when she was really in a terrible situation without money or identification. She hadn't even mentioned her troubles until she had to explain why she was so eager to travel with him.

Had he been wrong, Robert thought suddenly, to a.s.sume she didn't care what happened to him just because she said it wasn't necessary to tell her every time he was delayed? That was part of the same thing, not wanting to make a fuss. And then, with a terrible feeling of guilt, Robert remembered he had not sent her a note that morning. She would know a battle was about to take place. Tom Pace would have told her that if she had asked, and Robert, knowing how much interest Merry took in anything to do with the army, was sure she would have asked.

Tonight he would have to ride back to Caldas, no matter what. Just as he made that decision, a burst of shouting came from over a rise of ground to Robert's front. A horse came trotting forward, followed by a wave of men. A second company followed, led by an officer on foot with bare saber in hand. Robert angled Hermes in that direction, but had to hold back until the troops pa.s.sed. Then, before he could cross the ground, he saw a group of hors.e.m.e.n led by General Hill charging forward on the far flank.

He turned to follow and heard the first roll of musket fire, an answering roar, and a reply to that. As he drove Hermes up the last steep rise, bullets were flying pretty freely about, but most of them were directed too low to do him any harm. The fourth volley sounded ragged, and Robert muttered an obscenity, fearing that the charge had been broken. He drove his heels into Hermes's sides, urging him to greater speed, but topping the rise seconds later, he was relieved to see the redcoats still moving forward. The weaker gunfire must have come from the French, and then another rolling volley came from the British line. Robert cursed again because the gunsmoke obscured his view and he lost sight of Hill and his staff once more.

Driving forward in the general direction, Robert was startled to see a figure rise out of the smoke almost alongside him. Instinctively, he slashed with his saber, which he had not even remembered was still naked in his hand. As he struck, he cried out himself, fearing that he had injured one of the Ninety-fifth, whose dark-green uniforms could easily be mistaken for those of some French regiments. His conscience was immediately salved, however, for a ball whistled by his head as his blade came down, and the shrieked word the man uttered was not English.

A minute later another gun went off so close that Hermes screamed, shied, and stumbled. Robert thought he had been hit, but he recovered and leapt forward. He must have stepped on the wounded man who had fired the gun, Robert realized, hastily thrusting his saber into its scabbard and drawing and c.o.c.king a pistol. He was just in time, as another soldier ran at him with a bayonet. He fired, and the man twisted away as he fell.

For a while longer he was too busy to look for anyone, but a new wave of red-coated troops soon flooded into the area, and Robert was able to abandon self-defense. Fifteen minutes later he found General Hill and delivered his message, although it was fairly obvious that the British were now well lodged on the crest and a.s.sistance from the reserve would not be necessary unless a ma.s.sive French counterattack was launched. Since this was most unlikely, considering Delaborde's limitations in numbers, the general confirmed Robert's unspoken opinion, added his thanks, and scribbled a brief note for Sir Arthur about the current situation.

But Wellesley was little easier to find than Hill, and by the time Robert caught up with Sir Arthur, the French were beginning to retreat in earnest. There was no panic. Robert could feel nothing but admiration for the French, who fell back in regular formation, two battalions holding off the somewhat disordered British troops while the other two retreated.

Robert felt immense pride in their own men also. Although they were not as disciplined, owing to lack of experience in the field, their spirit could not be faulted. Their organization was not nearly as good, largely because their officers were too enthusiastic and excited to control them properly, but they went forward hotly, driving off several charges by the polished cha.s.seurs a cheval and pursuing the French with such determination that in the narrow pa.s.s behind Zambugeira they managed to capture three of Delaborde's five guns and take a number of prisoners.

The steady retreat took on some aspects of a rout then, but it was growing late and Sir Arthur was not willing to allow his raw troops to pursue farther than Cazal da Sprega. In the more open ground there was too great a chance of the French re-forming and the British getting completely out of hand. By the time all units were informed of this decision, every staff officer had ridden several horses into trembling exhaustion, and Sir Arthur's young gentlemen were themselves not in much better physical condition than their horses. Emotionally, however, they were exultant.

No matter that the force opposing them had been smaller than their own. The troops actually involved in the battle had been nearly a match in numbers. And possibly Delaborde would have tried to hold the ground with more determination had the British not outnumbered him, but they had dislodged him from the heights of Columbeira, a very strong position, with no more men than he had. The British had beat Boney's "invincible" troops.

Chapter Sixteen.

The army was ordered to camp on a ridge of high ground above the road leading to Lourinha while Sir Arthur set up temporary headquarters in Cazal da Sprega. As soon as they could, all senior officers rode in to consult and receive orders. They found Sir Arthur in good humor despite Colonel Lake's ill-considered advance. Sir Arthur said more than once that he had never seen more gallant fighting than that of the Twenty-ninth and the Ninth, and he complimented all the senior officers on the behavior of the troops.

Under the circ.u.mstances, the wine bottles pa.s.sed with unusual freedom during dinner, and even after the ADCs who were off duty were dismissed, they had no inclination to curtail their celebration. Someone had unearthed a new supply of wine, and they settled down in a house adjoining Sir Arthur's temporary headquarters to describe to each other their individual battle adventures.

The family of the house they had taken over had at first been terrified, however, when the young men brought out money and Robert explained to them in their own language that they would be much safer with British officers quartered in their home, their welcome became quite enthusiastic. The eldest daughter of the house, who was helping her mother serve the young men, was particularly free with her smiles, the wannest of which along with the most frequent offers of food and more wine were bestowed on Robert. Naturally, it was not long before his fellow officers noticed this favoritism.

"I think," Colin Campbell said, "I am going to start a pet.i.tion to get you sent home, Moreton, or at least to get you quartered in the next town. It was a pleasure at Alcobaca and Caldas when you rode back to Leiria. The girls paid attention to us for once."

"It's d.a.m.ned unfair," Burghersh complained. "You've already got a wife."

"Wife," Robert said. "Good G.o.d, Merry will be worried! I've got to ride back to Caldas and tell her we won. She'll be so glad."

"Can't ride back alone." Campbell shook his head. "There are bound to be French stragglers. Shoot you for your horse."

Robert glanced out the window. "Not dark. No more than ten miles altogether."

"Horses are all half-dead," Burghersh pointed out. "You won't get much speed out of any of them. It will be dark before you pa.s.s Rolica."

"Got to go back anyway," Robert insisted. He was just drunk enough to make him stubborn. "G.o.d knows what we'll be doing tomorrow."

"Sweet woman, Mrs. Moreton." Captain Williams's voice was slightly slurred. "Wouldn't want her to worry. Some of us can ride back with him. That would be safe enough. No sense staying here anyway. Once a girl's caught sight of Moreton's pretty face, the rest of us might just as well not be alive. We'll do better in Caldas. There was a girl in a wine shop there-"

"No, that was in obidos," Campbell said. "But you're right. Let's ride back, push Moreton in with his wife, and be rid of him. Save him from himself. New-married man, don't want to see him in the petticoat line-at least, not so soon."

Young and active as they all were, their exhaustion had mostly been cleared after dinner and the few hours' rest they had taken. Moreover, enough excitement remained from the action they had seen and the perils they had personally experienced to make them restless. Thus, the idea of escorting Robert back to Caldas was seized upon with enthusiasm.

Burghersh had sent his servant to get the least exhausted horses saddled. Not wishing to waste time or permit their high spirits to be dampened by exercise, each young man took along a bottle. Whether Campbell had exaggerated the dangers or the group was just large enough to discourage attack, they saw no one except a few belated carts carrying wounded into Rolica, French and British mixed together with a fine indifference.

The village was hopelessly crowded, and with the stench of blood and death and moans of the wounded, not inviting as a spot to pause.

Besides, as Burghersh had predicted, it was getting dark. They pressed on toward obidos at the best speed the jaded horses could make. On the way, however, the argument between Williams and Campbell broke out anew about whether the wine shop where the girl had flirted with them was in obidos or Caldas.

Each held firmly to his own opinion, claiming he knew exactly where the wine shop was and what it looked like. Then, since the bottles were empty and it was quite dark by the time they reached obidos, Burghersh suggested a logical way to end the argument. They would find the wine shop Campbell said he remembered in obidos, buy some more wine, and wait there for the moon to rise. If the girl Campbell remembered was there, he could stay in obidos while the remainder went on to Caldas to leave Robert with his wife and perhaps discover the wine shop Williams remembered. Thus, everyone would be happy.

This program was immediately accepted. Campbell did lead them unerringly to the wine shop, no great feat since it was on the main street and there were only two. Moreover, the serving girl certainly did greet them with most delighted smiles. But Williams still insisted that it was not the right wine shop, though he was not averse, any more than the others, to sitting down and having a few sustaining gla.s.ses until the moonlight illuminated the road.

Williams was still determined to find the wine shop he remembered, and several others also clung to the jolly notion of Mrs. Moreton's happy surprise when they returned her husband to her intact. They were not quite steady when they mounted, but they a.s.sisted each other with the greatest good humor, and Campbell rushed out just before they got their horses into motion to be sure that each had a bottle to take along. He was still absolutely certain that Williams's memory was at fault and did not want his friends to suffer if there was no welcoming wine shop in Caldas.

Drunk as he was, and by then they were all very drunk, Williams found his wine shop when they reached Caldas. To call the process by which they got off their horses dismounting would be a gross exaggeration. However, all reached the ground without injury, and that was a considerable accomplishment. When all were standing-more or less-and dusted off, they surged forward toward the door. Here, Captain Williams and Robert collided. Each staggered back and turned toward the other with grave politeness to bow-a somewhat perilous activity that required deep concentration-and to beg pardon, and each began to gesture the other forward, but Captain Williams aborted his gracious gesture and stared at Robert with a puzzled frown.

"You're not shupposed to be here," he said thickly.

"I'm not?" Robert asked uncertainly. "Where'm I shupposed to be?"

But the answer had escaped Williams's mind. They turned to their companions and explained the problem to them. After some deep thought all agreed that Robert had been supposed to leave them at some point, but they had no idea where. Finally Burghersh asked where they currently were. If they knew that, he pointed out gravely, it might be easier to decide where Robert was supposed to be. Then one of the others had the brilliant idea of inquiring in the wine shop. This suggestion obtained instant approval, but it seemed only polite to order some wine before asking questions.

The arrival of the bottle temporarily diverted them from the less immediate problem of determining their location. Having sampled the wine and found it very good, they decided they wished to order more.

"The trouble ish," Burghersh said, each word very carefully enunciated, "I don't believe m' father'sh vin-vintner carriesh thish."

"Silly thing anyway," Robert remarked, with even more care, having noted that Burghersh's speech was not all that it should be and resolved that, being older, he would control his tongue better "Why sh-send an order to England? Wine's right here. Order it here."

"Where'sh here?" Burghersh asked. "Need the direcsh-direction t' shend an order."

"Right." Robert nodded approval of this perceptive point. Vaguely he heard Burghersh calling to someone and asking where they were. It seemed silly. After all, they were here. Why ask about it?

A moment later he felt his shoulder being shaken. "It'sh weird," Burghersh said apologetically. "Don't shpeak English here, only Portuguese. You shpeak it, don't you? Ash them where to shend an order for wine."

That was entirely too complex a question for Robert to compose in his present condition, however he did remember that none of the others spoke Portuguese and one must, of course, do one's best to oblige a friend. The compromise he reached was simply to ask where they were. Indulgently, the wine shop owner replied that they were in Caldas.

"Caldash!" Robert exclaimed, the name having struck a chord in his muddled memory. "Merry'sh in Caldash."

"There," Captain Williams remarked with enormous satisfaction. "I shaid you weren't sh-supposed to be here. You were shupposed to tell Mishush Moreton about the battle. Doeshn't matter, though. The girl'sh not here, either. You can shtay."

"No. Can't," Robert said, reminded of his purpose and determined to carry it out. "Merry'll be worried. Ish very late."

"Right," Williams agreed. "Sh-sweet woman. Mushn't worry. Take you home now. Come back and fish-finish the wine."

This, however, was easier said than done since no one, including Robert, could remember how to get to Esmeralda's lodgings. The situation was resolved by Burghersh, who suggested with rare perspicacity-considering his condition-that, owing to the fact that he lived in the town, the wine shop owner might know. Restraining his mirth at the mangling of his language when Robert asked for directions, and realizing that Robert was probably incapable of understanding them, much less following them, the man suggested that he provide a guide.

Esmeralda had descended from the church tower in San Mahmed in considerable doubt as to what her next move should be. From what Dom Aleixo had told her, she would be able to make out ma.s.s movements from Amiais, but no individual figures. Was it worthwhile to take the chance that Robert would hear of this crazy excursion to watch maneuvers she would not even understand? But that was not completely true, Esmeralda admitted. She had understood that the French had withdrawn.

Perhaps the battle was over? As she and Carlos walked toward the wine shop to reclaim Luisa and Boa Viagem, Esmeralda voiced this hope. Carlos's laugh was answer enough when her own common sense agreed completely that it could not be so. More likely, she thought, it was only more pickets that had been driven off. The real action would take place farther away in the ring of hills she could see in the distance.

As Esmeralda mounted with the help of a bench Carlos dragged from the wine shop, she was still in some doubt as to what to do.

Then, as Carlos scrambled to Luisa's back, he pointed to a narrow lane at the side of the shop.

"This goes to Amiais, Senhora Moreton," he said, his eyes gleaming with expectation.

It can do no harm just to look, Esmeralda told herself. She was much calmer than she had been all the previous day, which was the advantage of doing something, even if that something was rather pointless. Besides, there could be no risk at all because both the French and English armies were moving away and would be farther from her when she was at Amiais than they had been when she had been in San Mahmed. She nodded, and they set off for Amiais.

Although the people of the tiny village were very excited because the Portuguese units of the British force had pa.s.sed right by the town earlier in the day, Esmeralda found no sign of either army anywhere in the vicinity of Amiais. But when she mentioned that she had a spygla.s.s and might be able to see what was happening if she were high enough, a woman with a house on the edge of town a little way up the hillside eagerly offered her a place from which to look. However, all she could report was that a march was underway. She was then offered refreshment, bread and cheese, melons, figs, grapes, with milk or wine. While they were eating, a distant, dull thudding began. At first no one paid much attention, for the sound was certainly not threatening. After a few minutes, however, the regularity of the thuds impressed themselves on Esmeralda, and she jumped to her feet with a gasp. That was the sound of cannon.

She rushed up to the loft and leveled her gla.s.s through the tiny window. Sure enough, there was smoke rising in the air, but a shoulder of the Rolica hill hid the actual position of the guns. Desperately Esmeralda adjusted the gla.s.s, but she had no idea where to aim it, and it took her more than half an hour before she made out the patches of red that were probably whole brigades. Still, she watched eagerly, but more and more of the red coats disappeared into the brush and trees on the rising slopes of the farther hills, and no matter how carefully she swept the area within her view she could not catch the smallest glimpse of Sir Arthur or his dark-coated staff.

Her frustration increased. It was ridiculous to go on staring at virtually nothing. Either she should go back to Caldas or find a closer vantage point. As she moved impatiently, the gla.s.s swung left, showing her the slope of Rolica hill. She stared at it blankly at first, then with more attention. Perhaps she would be able to see better from Rolica. Even as the thought formed, Esmeralda knew it was unwise. She was not worried about the French. She could see they were retreating, and Robert had said the British would win, so it must be so. What worried Esmeralda was that there might be some British units in and around the town and someone might recognize her.

Frustration was a stronger emotion in Esmeralda than caution, and although she had been strongly rea.s.sured by seeing Robert safely in the rear throughout the early action, she had a desire to catch at least one more glimpse of him. If she could see him once more, still in the quiet group that surrounded Sir Arthur, she would be convinced he was in no danger and go back to Caldas. That compromise eased her conscience, and to further a.s.sure herself that she was acting reasonably, she carefully examined the area between Amiais and Rolica hill with her gla.s.s. She could see nothing aside from a country cart or two and a few tiny moving specks in the tilled fields, which was rea.s.suring. Surely the people of San Mahmed would not be out tending their fields if there was danger.

Her departure was regarded with alarm, the woman of the house asking fearfully if the British were running away.

"Of course not," Esmeralda replied rather indignantly. "They are advancing," she averred with conviction, although she had not really seen anything to support her statement. "They are now too far away to see properly. I am going to ride across to Rolica."

As she said it she felt uncertain again, but Carlos's whoop of joy and the village woman's smiling nod-both of which, of course, were based on her own previous statement-rea.s.sured her. Nor was there anything besides the mounting heat to shake her confidence as they rode back toward San Mahmed. There were farm carts on the road, and people waved in a friendly way from the melon patches. Here, with the bulk of Rolica hill between them and the action, even the sound of the artillery could not be detected, and it really seemed as if any conflict was very far away.

When they were south of the village, Esmeralda asked a pa.s.sing woman about the road to Rolica. She pointed it out to them and described the route with a smile that held neither doubt nor fear. Esmeralda rode on, satisfied, thinking that if she could not see from the town itself, she might find a way to the top of the hill. Intrigued by the idea, she examined what she could see of the slopes.

They did not look excessively rugged, and when she and Carlos reached the place where the hill bulged northeast toward the path, Esmeralda knew that the village was just around the bend. There was the shining trickle of a stream, which often meant a gentle slope, so she suggested that Carlos take Luisa, who was more surefooted than Boa Viagem, across to the hillside and see whether it might be safe to climb, while she continued slowly by the path. She thought she would be able to parallel Carlos's course, but there was a little wood into which he disappeared. Still, he could not get lost. Esmeralda continued around a bend in the path, her attention more engaged with the hill than the road.

"Halte!"

The harsh command startled Esmeralda so much that she cried out and jerked hard on Boa Viagem's reins. Equally startled by the sudden shouts and rough pull on her mouth, the mare rose on her hind legs and then backed away. Simultaneously, a French soldier leapt up from the side of the road where he had taken cover, displaying a musket. Esmeralda screamed again, but it was less the sight of the gun that frightened her than the fact that half the man's face was covered with a brown crust of drying blood.

"Halte-la! Descende de cheval!" the man shrieked, lifting the gun as if to aim.

Although she knew no French, the soldier's meaning was unmistakable. What was more, the blood, the uniform, and the gun all indicated that the soldier had been left behind. He wanted her horse so that he could return to his own army. The revelation came in a flash and was followed by another equally swift, that he would not dare fire while Boa Viagem was moving up and down, because there was a far greater chance of his. .h.i.tting the horse than hitting the rider. Moreover, Esmeralda was far more afraid of losing her horse and having Robert find out what she had been doing-a real and immediate terror-than she was of death, which was a concept that somehow had little reality with regard to herself.

Immediately Esmeralda screamed again, much louder than her first startled cries, kicked Boa Viagem as hard as she could, and at the same time pulled back on the reins. Completely confused by the kicks that meant go forward and the jerking at her mouth that meant go back, and frightened by the loud shouts and wild gestures of the man ahead and the piercing shrieks of Esmeralda on her back, the mare reared wildly, began to plunge forward, was violently checked, backed and reared again.