"The enemy's horses are spent.

A determined stand may give us another chance." But it was a forlorn hope.

As San Benavides lurched into the _pateo_, the horses of the first pursuing detachment strained up the slope between house and encampment.
Carmela, all her fire gone, the pallid ghost of the vengeful woman who would have shattered her lover's skull were the revolver loaded, was the first to see him.

She actually crouched in terror.

Her tongue was parched.