Bolivar commenced his passage through the defile on the
morning of the 24th, and halted in dismay as he reached the outlet. It
was too apparent that such a conflict as lay before him could not be
braved. At this moment Paez learned that a narrow side-path existed,
permitting the passage of a single file, which led, by a _detour_, to
the plain. It was one of those curious accidents on which the fate of
battles seems to hang; and after some hesitation, Bolivar permitted Paez
to venture the passage. Heading the famous Battalion of Apure, he at
once wheeled to the left, and commenced the toilsome march. One by one
the veterans struggled through the pass, but they were discovered by La
Torre before they issued upon the plain.
Although taken entirely by surprise, the Spaniards had time for a
partial change of front, and before the veterans of Apure had assembled
at the mouth of the pass, a volley of musketry rang out from the Spanish
lines, and the gleaming of bayonets told of a wall of steel across the
path. The scanty force of Paez, however, dashed from the ravine, and,
forming hastily, rushed upon the enemy. Four Royalist battalions
converged upon them, and they were crushed. They fell back, flying in
disorder, and the Spaniards were on the point of securing the pass,
when a shout arose before them that made the stoutest quail. With
one ever-memorable cheer, a long hurrah, which spoke of well-known
unconquerable determination, the British legion, less than eight hundred
strong, with their Colonel, John Ferrier, at their head, appeared at the
mouth of the ravine.
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