she pulled whenever Garcia turned his head away.

"I was disgusted, and never spoke a word to her all night. The next
morning we had made up our packs, and had already started, when we
became aware that we had a dozen horsemen on our heels. The braggart
Andalusians, who had been boasting they would murder every one who came
near them, cut a pitiful figure at once. There was a general rout. _El
Dancaire_, Garcia, a good-looking fellow from Ecija, who was called _El
Remendado_, and Carmen herself, kept their wits about them. The rest
forsook the mules and took to the gorges, where the horses could not
follow them. There was no hope of saving the mules, so we hastily
unstrapped the best part of our booty, and taking it on our shoulders,
we tried to escape through the rocks down the steepest of the slopes. We
threw our packs down in front of us and followed them as best we could,
slipping along on our heels. Meanwhile the enemy fired at us. It was
the first time I had ever heard bullets whistling around me and I
didn't mind it very much. When there's a woman looking on, there's no
particular merit in snapping one's fingers at death. We all escaped
except the poor _Remendado_, who received a bullet wound in the loins. I
threw away my pack and tried to lift him up.

"'Idiot!' shouted Garcia, 'what do we want with offal! Finish him off,
and don't lose the cotton stockings!'

"'Drop him!' cried Carmen.

"I was so exhausted that I was obliged to lay him down for a moment
under a rock. Garcia came up, and fired his blunderbuss full into his
face. 'He'd be a clever fellow who recognised him now!' said he, as he
looked at the face, cut to pieces by a dozen slugs.