The Spaniards seemed terribly afraid of them, as well they might be, for the Colombian spears did dire execution.

Few missed their mark, and I saw more than one trooper literally spitted and lifted clean out of his saddle.
Mejia, distinguishable by his tall stature, was in the thick of the fray.
After the first shock he threw away his spear, and drawing a long two-handed sword, which he carried at his back, laid about like a _coeur-de-lion_.

The combat lasted only a few minutes, and though we were too late to contribute to the victory we were in time to take part in the pursuit.
It was a scene of wild confusion and excitement; the Spaniards galloping off in all directions, singly and in groups, making no attempt to rally, yet when overtaken, fighting to the last, Mejia's men following them with lowered lances and wild cries, managing their fiery little horses with consummate ease, and _making no prisoners_.
"Here is a chance for us; let us charge these fellows!" shouted Carmen, as eight or nine of the enemy rode past us in full retreat; and without pausing for a reply he went off at a gallop, followed by Gahra and myself; for although I had no particular desire to attack men who were flying for their lives and to whom I knew no quarter would be given, it was impossible to hold back when my comrades were rushing into danger.

Had the Spaniards been less intent on getting away it would have fared ill with us.

As it was, we were all wounded.