It was like climbing up a precipice.
Pizarro slipped back three times.

Carmen's mare did no better.

In the end we had to dismount, fasten two lariats to each saddle, and haul while the horses scrambled.

A little help goes a long way in such circumstances.
All this both made noise and caused delay, and it was with a decided sense of relief that we found ourselves once more in the saddle and _en route_.
"We have lost more time than I reckoned on," said Carmen, as we galloped through the pass.

"If any of the dragoons had turned back--However, they did not, and, as our horses are both fresher than theirs and carry less weight, they will have no chance of overtaking us if they do; and, as the whole of the regiment has gone on, there is no chance of meeting any more of them--_Caramba!_ Halt!" "What is it ?" I asked, pulling up short.
"I spoke too soon.