“Another word, and I will throw you to the hounds without further parley,” broke in Griscelli, savagely.

“Better keep quiet; there is nothing to be gained by roiling him,” whispered Carmen.

I took his advice and held my peace, all the more willingly as there was something in Carmen’s manner which implied that he did not think our case quite so desperate as might appear.

“Dismount and give up your weapons,” said Griscelli.

Resistance being out of the question, we obeyed with the best grace we could; but I bitterly regretted having to part with the historic Toledo and my horse Pizarro; he had carried me well, and we thoroughly understood each other.  The least I could do was to give him his freedom, and, as I patted his neck by way of bidding him farewell, I slipped the bit out of his mouth, and let him go.

“Hallo!  What is that—­a horse loose?  Catch him, some of you,” shouted Griscelli, who had been talking with his huntsman and Captain Guzman, whereupon two of the troopers rode off in pursuit, a proceeding which made Pizarro gallop all the faster, and I knew that, follow him as long as they might, they would not overtake him.

Griscelli resumed his conversation with Captain Guzman, an opportunity by which I profited to glance at the hounds, and though I was unable just then to regard them with very kindly feelings, I could not help admiring them.  Taller and more strongly built than fox-hounds, muscular and broad-chested, with pendulous ears and upper lips, and stern, thoughtful faces, they were splendid specimens of the canine race; even sized too, well under control, and in appearance no more ferocious than other hounds.  Why should they be?  All hounds are blood-hounds in a sense, and it is probably indifferent to them whether they pursue a fox, a deer, or a man; it is entirely a matter of training.

“I am going to let you have more law than I mentioned just now” said Griscelli, turning to Carmen and me.  “Captain Guzman, here, and the huntsmen think twenty minutes would not give us much of a run—­these hounds are very fast—­so I shall make it forty.  But you must first submit to a little operation.  Make them ready, Jose.”

Whereupon one of the attendants, producing a bottle, smeared our shoes and legs with a liquid which looked like blood, and was, no doubt, intended to insure a good scent and render our escape impossible.  While this was going on Carmen and I took off our coats and threw them on the ground.”

“When I give the word you may start,” said Griscelli, “and forty minutes afterward the hounds will be laid on—­Now!”

“This way!  Toward the hills!” said Carmen.  “Are you in good condition?”

“Never better.”

“We must make all the haste we can, before the hounds are laid on.  If we can keep this up we shall reach the hills in forty minutes—­perhaps less.”

“And then?  These hounds will follow us for ever—­no possibility of throwing them out—­unless—­is there a river?”