Summary

Portrait of Max Pemberton Max Pemberton The Sea Wolves — XXVI. A STRANGE CRY IN THE HILLS (1901)

A few coverts—and these containing many great trees—yet burned about the chasm as torches, exceeding brilliant and fierce in their fires. The bridge itself was alight with flame; and men, both upon it and below it, heard themselves breathing in the moment of the peril.
It is just possible, had the Spaniards and the woman dared the passage on foot, that they had come to safety. The timidity of horse or mule in the face of fire is a fact as old as man; and it was the terror of the mules that ultimately brought the end of the venture.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Max Pemberton Max Pemberton The Sea Wolves — XXVI. A STRANGE CRY IN THE HILLS (1901)

If one risen from the dead had confronted Messenger, he could not have been struck with a greater fear than the horrible, overwhelming panic which now came upon him; for the second voice he recognized as the voice of Mike Brennan, the drunken mate of the tug Admiral whom he had last seen drawn down to the waters of the North Sea. As the cry of one coming from the deep of death to claim justice upon the living were the words to him; and to the Spanish woman and her men they were as an inexplicable omen, which struck them with terror to their very marrows.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Max Pemberton Max Pemberton The Sea Wolves — XXVI. A STRANGE CRY IN THE HILLS (1901)

Below this ledge of rock a long and fertile valley, dotted with hamlets and pastures, spread for many miles. Even by the moon's light the land had a fair aspect; the breeze upon the heights was exhilarating as strong wine. The Spaniards, trusting in the sure steps of the mules, did not even come down from their saddles; the woman set a brisk pace, now gossiping to Messenger behind her with the flippancy of a girl of twenty.
Source: Wikisource

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