The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER VIII

  NEW ENEMIES

  The two were in splendid spirits. They had escaped great dangers, andthey were on horseback once more. It is true, they were somewhat shorton armament, but Breakstone took Phil's pistol, while the latter keptthe rifle, and they were confident that they could find game enough onthe plains until they overtook the wagon train. The horses themselvesseemed glad of the companionship of their old masters, and went forwardreadily and at an easy pace through the woods. They soon found the pathby which they had come, and followed it until they crossed the river andreached the site of the camp. But the trail toward the plain lay beforethem broad and easy.

  "They can't have gone long," said Breakstone. "They may have thoughtthat we were merely loitering behind for some purpose of our own andwould soon overtake them. A whole train isn't going to linger about fortwo fellows well mounted and well armed who are supposed to know how totake care of themselves. But, Sir Philip of the Youthful Countenance, Idon't think that Middleton and Arenberg would go ahead without us."

  "Neither do I," said Phil with emphasis. "I as good as know thatthey're looking for us in these woods, and we've got to stay behind andfind them, taking the risk of Comanches."

  "Wherein I do heartily agree with you, and I'm going to take a chanceright now. It is likely that the two, after fruitless searches for us,would return here at intervals, and, in a region like this, the sound ofa shot will travel far. Fire the rifle, Phil, and it may bring them.It's often used as a signal. If it brings the Comanches instead, we'reon our horses, and they're strong and swift."

  Phil fired a shot, but there was no response. He waited half an hourand fired a second time, with the same result. After another half hour,the third shot was fired, and, four or five minutes later, Breakstoneannounced that he heard the tread of hoofs. It was a faint, distantsound, but Phil, too, heard it, and he was confident that it was made byhoofs. The two looked at each other, and each read the question in theother's eye. Who were coming in reply to the call of that third rifleshot, red men or white?

  "We'll just draw back a little behind this clump of bushes," saidBreakstone. "We can see a long way through their tops, and not be seenuntil the riders come very close. Then, if the visitors to this Forestof Arden of ours, Sir Philip, are not those whom we wish to see, it's upand away with us."

  They waited in strained eagerness. The sounds grew louder. It wascertain, moreover, that the riders were coming straight toward the pointat which the rifle had been fired.

  "Judging from the hoof beats, how many would you say they are?" askedPhil.

  "Not many. Maybe three or four, certainly not more. But I'm hoping thatit's two, neither more nor less."

  On came the horsemen, the hoofbeats steadily growing louder. Phil rosein his stirrups and gained a further view. He saw the top of a soft hatand then the top of another. In a half minute the faces beneath cameinto view. He knew them both, and he uttered a cry of joy.

  "Middleton and Arenberg!" he exclaimed. "Here they come!"

  "Our luck still holds good," said Bill Breakstone. He and Phil gallopedfrom behind the bushes and shouted as warm a welcome as men ever had.They received one equally warm in return, as Middleton and the Germanurged their horses forward. Then there was a mighty shaking of handsand mutual congratulations.

  "The train left yesterday morning," said Middleton, "but we couldn'tgive you up. We scouted all the way across the forest and saw theComanches on the other side. There was nothing to indicate anythingunusual among them, such as a sacrifice of prisoners, and we hoped thatif you had been taken by them you had escaped, and we came back here tosee, knowing that if you were able you would return to this place. Wewere right in one part of our guess, because here you are."

  "And mighty glad we are to be here," said Bill Breakstone, "and I wantto say to you that I, Bill Breakstone, who may not be of so muchimportance to the world, but who is of vast importance to himself, wouldnot be here at all, or anywhere else, for that matter, if it were notfor this valiant and skillful youth, Sir Philip Bedford, Knight of theTexas plains."

  "Stop, Bill," exclaimed Phil blushing. "Don't talk that way."

  "Talk that way! Of course I will! And I'll pile it up, too! And afterI pile it up and keep on piling it up, it won't be the whole truth.Cap, and you, Hans, old fellow, Phil and I were not taken together,because Phil was never taken at all. It was I alone who sat still, shutmy eyes, and closed my ears while I let three of the ugliest Comanchewarriors that were ever born walk up, lay violent hands on me, harnessme up in all sorts of thongs and withes, and carry me off to theirvillage, where they would have had some red sport with me if Phil hadn'tcome, when they were all mad with a great dance, and taken me away."

  Then he told the story in detail, and Phil, shy and blushing, wascompelled to receive their compliments, which were many and sincere.But he insisted that he merely succeeded through good luck, which BillBreakstone warmly denied.

  "Well, between the two of you, you have certainly got out of it well,"said Middleton, "and, as we are reunited, we must plan for the nextstep. We can easily overtake the train by to-morrow, but I'm of theopinion that we'll have to be very careful, and that we must do somescouting, also. Arenberg and I have discovered that the Comanchewarriors are on the move again. Their whole force of warriors seemed tobe getting ready to leave the village, and they may be planning, afterall, a second attack upon the train, a night surprise, or something ofthat kind. We, too, will have to be careful lest we run into them."

  "Then it maybe for the good of the train that we were left back here,"said Phil, "because we will return with a warning."

  "It may be the hand of Providence," said Arenberg, "since the Comanchesdid no harm where much was intended."

  As both Middleton and Arenberg were firmly convinced that the plainwould be thick with Comanche scouts, making their passage by daylightimpossible, or at least extremely hazardous, they decided to remain inthe woods until nightfall. They rode a couple of miles from the camp,tethered their horses in thick bushes, and, sitting near them, waitedplacidly. Phil Breakstone, and Arenberg talked in low tones, butMiddleton sat silent. Phil noticed presently that "The Cap" waspreoccupied. Little lines of thought ran down from his eyes to thecorners of his nose.

  Phil began to wonder again about the nature of Middleton's mission.Every one of the four was engaged upon some great quest, and none ofthem knew the secret of any of the others. Nor, in the rush of events,had they been left much time to think about such matters.

  Now Phil again studied Middleton more closely. There was something inthe unaccustomed lines of his face and his thoughtful eye indicating abelief that for him, at least, the object of the quest might be drawingnigh. At least, it seemed so to the boy. He studied, too, Middleton'sclean cut face, and the sharp line of his strong chin. Phil had noticedbefore that this man was uncommonly neat in his personal appearance. Itwas a neatness altogether beyond what one usually saw on the plains.His clothing was always clean and in order, he carried a razor, and heshaved every day. Nor did he ever walk with a slovenly, lounging gait.

  Phil decided that something very uncommon must have sent him with theSanta Fe train, but he would not ask; he had far too much delicacy topry into the secret of another, who did not pry into his own.

  Middleton and Arenberg had ample food in their saddlebags and Phil andBreakstone combined with it their stock of deer meat. Nothing disturbedthem in the thicket, and at nightfall they mounted and rode out into theplain.

  "I know something about this country before us," said Breakstone. "Itruns on in rolling swells for a march of many days, without any streamsexcept shallow creeks, and without any timber except the fringes ofcottonwoods along these creeks."

  "And I know which way to go in order to overtake the train," saidMiddleton. "Woodfall said that they would head straight west, and weare certainly good enough plainsmen to keep our no
ses pointed that way."

  "We are, we surely are," said Bill Breakstone, "but we must keep a goodwatch for those Comanche scouts. They hide behind the swells on theirponies, and they blend so well with the dusky earth that you'd nevernotice 'em until they had passed the signal on to others that you werecoming and that it was a good time to form an ambush."

  There was a fair sky, with a moon and some clear stars, and they couldsee several hundred yards, but beyond that the whole horizon fused intoa dusky wall. They rode at a long, swinging pace, and the hoofs of theirhorses made little noise on the new spring turf. The wind of theplains, which seldom ceases, blew gently in their faces and brought withit a soft crooning sound. Its note was very pleasant in the ears ofPhilip Bedford. In the saddle and with his best friends again, he feltthat he could defy anything. He felt, too, and perhaps the feeling wasdue to his physical well-being and recovered safety, that he, also, wascoming nearer to the object of his quest. Involuntarily he put his lefthand on his coat, where the paper which he had read so often laysecurely in a little inside pocket. He knew every word of it by heart,but when the time came, and he was alone, he would take it out and readit again. It was this paper that was always calling to him.

  They rode on, crossing swell after swell, and, after the first hour, thefour did not talk. It was likely that every one was thinking of his ownsecret.

  They came about midnight to a prairie creek, a stream of water two orthree yards wide and a few inches deep, flowing in a bed of sand perhapsfifteen yards across. A thin fringe of low cottonwoods and some willowsgrew on either shore. They approached warily, knowing that such a placeoffered a good ambush, and realizing that four would not have muchchance against a large Comanche war band.

  "But I don't think there is much danger," said Bill Breakstone. "If theComanches are up to mischief again, they're not looking for strayparties; their mind is on the train, and, by the way, the train haspassed along here. Look down, and in this moonlight you can see plainlyenough the tracks of a hundred wheels."

  "The horses are confident," said Middleton, "and I think we can be so,too."

  The horses were advancing without hesitation, and it soon became evidentthat nothing was concealed among the scanty lines of trees and bushes.

  "Look out for quicksands," said Arenberg. "It iss not pleasant to beswallowed up in one of them and feel that you have died such a uselessdeath."

  "There is no danger," said Phil, whose quick eye was following the trailof the wagons. "Here is where the train crossed, and if the wagonsdidn't sink we won't."

  The water being cold and entirely free from alkali, the horses drankeagerly, and their riders, also, took the chance to refill theircanteens, which they always carried strapped to their saddle bows. Theyalso rested awhile, but, when they remounted and rode on, Middletonnoticed a light to the northward. On the plains then, no man would passa light without giving it particular attention, and the four sat ontheir horses for some minutes studying it closely. They thought atfirst that it might be a signal light of the Comanches, but, as it didnot waver, they concluded that it must be a camp fire.

  "Now I'm thinking," said Bill Breakstone, "that we oughtn't to leave acamp fire burning away here on the plains, and we not knowing anythingabout it. It won't take us long to ride up and inspect it."

  "That is a truth," said Middleton. "It is not a difficult matter forfour horsemen to overtake a wagon train, but we'll first see what thatfire means."

  "It iss our duty to do so," said the phlegmatic German.

  They rode straight toward the light, and their belief that it was a campfire was soon confirmed. They saw the red blaze rising and quivering,and then dusky figures passing and repassing before it.

  "We're yet too far away to tell exactly what those figures are," saidBill Breakstone, "but I don't see any sign of long hair or war bonnets,and so I take it that they are not Comanches, nor any other kind ofIndians, for that matter. No warriors would build so careless a fire orwander so carelessly about it.

  "They are white men," said Middleton with conviction, as he increasedhis horse's pace. "Ah, I see now! Mexicans! Look at the shadows oftheir great conical hats as they pass before the fire."

  "Now I wonder what they're doing here on Texas soil," said BillBreakstone.

  Middleton did not answer, but Phil noticed that the look in his eyes wassingularly tense and eager. As they drew near the fire, which was alarge one, and the hoof-beats of their horses were heard, two men inMexican. dress, tall conical broad-brimmed hats, embroidered coats andtrousers and riding boots, bearing great spurs, came forward to meetthem. Phil saw another figure, which had been lying on a blanket by thefire, rise and stand at attention. He instantly perceived, even then,something familiar in the figure.

  The four rode boldly forward, and Middleton called out:

  "We are friends!"

  The two Mexicans who were in advance, rifle in hand, stood irresolutely,and glanced at the man behind them, who had just risen from his blanket.

  "You are welcome," said this man in good English but with a strongMexican accent. "We are glad for anybody to share with us our camp firein this wilderness. Dismount, Senores."

  Then Phil knew him well. It was Pedro de Armijo, the young Mexican whomhe had seen with the Mexican envoy, Zucorra, in New Orleans, one whom hehad instinctively disliked, one whom he was exceedingly astonished tosee at such a time and place. Middleton also recognized him, because heraised his cap and said politely:

  "This is a pleasant meeting. You are Captain Pedro de Armijo, who cameto our capital with His Excellency Don Augustin Xavier Hernando Zucorraon a mission, intended to be of benefit to both our countries. My nameis Middleton, George Middleton, and these are my friends, Mr.Breakstone, Mr. Arenberg, and Mr. Bedford."

  De Armijo gave every one in turn a quick scrutinizing look, and, withflowing compliment, bade them welcome to his fireside. It seemed thathe did not remember Middleton, but that he took for granted their formermeeting in Washington. Phil liked him none the more because of thepolite words he used. He was not one to hold prejudice because of race,but this Mexican had a manner supercilious and conceited that inspiredresentment.

  "It seems strange, Senor Middleton," said de Armijo, "that we shouldmeet again in such a place on these vast plains, so far from a house orany other human beings, plains that were once Mexican, but which you nowcall yours."

  De Armijo glided over the last words smoothly, but the blood leaped inPhil's temples. Middleton apparently took no notice, but said that heand his comrades were riding across the plains mainly on an exploringexpedition. As there was some danger from Comanches, they weretraveling partly by night, and, having seen the camp fire, they had cometo investigate it, after the custom of the wilderness.

  "And, now that you have found us," said de Armijo with elaboratecourtesy, "I have reason to believe that you would run into Comanchehorsemen a little farther on. They would not harm us Mexicans, withwhom they are at peace, but for you Americans they would have littlemercy. Stay with us for the remainder of the night."

  He smiled, showing his white teeth, and Middleton smiled back as hereplied:

  "Your courtesy is appreciated, Captain de Armijo. We shall stay. It ispleasant, too, to welcome a gallant Mexican officer like yourself toAmerican soil."

  The eyes of de Armijo snapped in the firelight, and the white teeth werebared again. Phil knew that he resented the expression "American soil."Mexico still maintained a claim to Texas--which it could not makegood--and he felt equally confident that Middleton had used itpurposely. It seemed to him that some sort of duel was in progressbetween the two, and he watched it with overwhelming curiosity. But deArmijo quickly returned to his polite manner.

  "You speak the truth," he said. "It is I who am your guest, not you whoare mine. It was Mexican soil once, and before that Spanish--threecenturies under our race--but now gone, I suppose, forever."

  Middleton did not reply, but approached the fire and wa
rmed his handsover the blaze. The night was cold and the flames looked cheerful. Theothers tethered their horses, and all except the two who had met theAmericans took their places by the fire. The Mexicans were six innumber. Only de Armijo seemed to be a man of any distinction. Theothers, although stalwart and well armed, were evidently of the peonclass. Phil wondered what this little party was doing here, and theconviction grew upon him that the meeting had something to do withMiddleton's mission.

  "I am sorry," said de Armijo, "that we do not even have a tent to offeryou, but doubtless you are accustomed to sleeping under the open sky,and the air of these plains is dry and healthy."

  "A blanket and a few coals to warm one's feet are sufficient," saidMiddleton. "We will avail ourselves of your courtesy and not keep youawake any longer."

  Both Breakstone and Arenberg glanced at Middleton, but they saidnothing, wrapping themselves in their blankets, and lying down, withtheir feet to the fire. Phil did the same, but he thought it a strangeproceeding, this apparently unguarded camping with Mexicans, who at thebest were not friends, with the possibility of Comanches who were, atall times, the bitterest and most dangerous of enemies. Yet Middletonmust have some good reason, he was not a man to do anything rash orfoolish, and Phil awaited the issue with confidence.

  Phil could not sleep. The meeting had stirred him too much, and hisnerves would not relax. He lay before the fire, his feet within a yardof the coals, and his head in the crook of his arm. Now and then heheard a horse move or stamp his hoofs, but all the men were silent. DeArmijo, lying on a blanket and with a fine blue cavalry cloak spreadover him, seemed to be asleep, but as he was on the other side of thefire Phil could not see his eyes. Middleton was nearer, and he saw hischest rising and falling with the regularity of one who sleeps.

  It all seemed very peaceful, very restful. Perhaps de Armijo'shospitality was real, and he had wronged him with his suspicions. Butreason with himself as he would, Phil could not overcome his dislike anddistrust. Something was wrong, and something was going to happen, yetmuch time passed and nothing happened. De Armijo's eyes were stillshaded by his cloak, but his long figure lay motionless. Only a fewlive coals remained from the fire, and beyond a radius of twenty feetlay the encircling rim of the darkness. At the line where light anddark met, crouched the two peons with their rifles across their knees.It was Phil's opinion that they, too, slept in this sitting posture.Surely de Armijo and his men had great confidence in their security, andmust be on the best of terms with the Comanches! If so, it mightincrease the safety of the little American party, also, but the boy yetwondered why Middleton had stopped when they were all so eager to reachthe wagon train and warn it of the new danger.

  Phil stirred once or twice, but only to ease his position, and he did itwithout noise. His eyes were shaded by the brim of his soft hat, but hewatched the circle about the fire, and most of all he watched de Armijo.An interminable period of time passed, every second growing to ten timesits proper length. Phil was as wakeful as ever, but so much watchingmade the figures about the fire dim and uncertain. They seemed to shifttheir places, but the boy was still resolved to keep awake, althougheverybody else slept through the night. His premonition was yet withhim, his heart expanded, and his pulse beat faster.

  The remaining coals died one by one. The circle of light, alreadysmall, contracted still more, became a point, and then vanished.Everything now lay in the dark, and the figures were merely blackershapes against the blackness. Then, after that long waiting, with everysecond and minute drawn out tenfold, Phil's premonition came true.Something happened.

  De Armijo moved. He moved ever so slightly, but Phil saw him, and,lying perfectly still himself, he watched him with an absorbedattention, and a heart that had increased its beating still further. DeArmijo's body itself had not moved, it was merely one hand that had comeslowly from under the covering of the cloak, and that now lay whiteagainst the blue cloth. A man might move his hand thus in sleep, but itseemed to Phil that the action was guided by a conscious mind. Intent,he watched, and presently his reward came. The other hand also slidfrom beneath the cloak, and, like its fellow, lay white against the bluecloth. Now both hands were still, but Phil yet waited, confident thatmore would come. It was all very quiet and slow, like the craft andcunning of the Indian, but Phil was willing to match it with a patienceand craft of his own.

  At last the whole figure of de Armijo stirred. Phil saw the blue cloaktremble slightly. Then the man raised his head ever so little andlooked about the dark circle. Slowly he let the head fall back, and thefigure became still again. But the boy was not deceived. Already everysuspicion had been verified in his mind, and his premonition was provedabsolutely true.

  Pedro de Armijo raised himself again, but a little higher this time, andhe did not let his head and body drop back. He looked about the circlewith a gaze that Phil knew must be sharp and scrutinizing, although itwas too dark for him to see the expression of his eyes. The Mexicanseemed satisfied with his second examination, and then, dropping softlyon his hands and knees, he crept toward Middleton. It occurred to Philafterward that this approach toward Middleton did not surprise him. Inreality, it was just what he had expected de Armijo to do.

  The boy was uncertain about his own course, and, like one under a spell,he waited. The dusky figure of de Armijo creeping toward Middleton hada sinuous motion like that of a great snake, and Phil's hand slippeddown to the hammer of his rifle, but he would not fire. He noticed thatde Armijo had drawn no weapon, and he did not believe that murder washis intention.

  Middleton did not move. He lay easily upon his right side, and Philjudged that he was in a sound sleep. De Armijo, absorbed in his task,did not look back. Hence he did not see the boy who rose slowly to asitting posture, a ready rifle in his hands.

  Phil saw de Armijo reach Middleton's side and pause there a moment ortwo. He still drew no weapon, and this was further proof that murderwas not in the Mexican's mind, but Phil believed that whatever laybetween these two was now at the edge of the crisis. He saw de Armijoraise his hand and put it to Middleton's breast with the evidentintention of opening his coat. So he was a thief! But the fingersstopped there as Phil leveled his rifle and called sharply:

  "Hands up, de Armijo, or I shoot!"

  The startled Mexican would have thrown up his hands, but he did not havetime. They were seized in the powerful grasp of Middleton, and he waspulled downward upon his face.

  "Ah, would you, de Armijo!" cried Middleton in exultant tones. "We havecaught you! Good boy, Phil, you were watching, too!"

  "All the others were up in an instant, but Breakstone and Arenberg weretoo quick for the Mexicans. They covered them with their rifle muzzlesbefore their antagonists could raise their weapons.

  "Throw down every gun and pistol!" said Breakstone sternly. "There, bythe log, and we'll see what's going forward!"

  Sullenly the Mexicans complied, and then stood in a little huddledgroup, looking at their fallen leader, whom Middleton still held uponthe ground, but who was pouring out muffled oaths from a face that wasin the dirt.

  "Take his pistols, Phil," said Middleton, and the boy promptly removedthem. Then Middleton released him, and de Armijo sat up, his face blackas night, his heart raging with anger, hate, and humiliation.

  "How dare you attack me in my own camp! You whom we received asguests!" he cried.

  "We did not attack you," replied Middleton calmly. He had risen to hisfeet, and he towered over the Mexican like an accusing judge. "It isyou who attacked us, or me, rather, and you intended, if you did not getwhat you wanted with smooth fingers, to use violence. You cannot denythat, Captain Pedro de Armijo of the Mexican army; there were at leasttwo witnesses of your act, Philip Bedford and myself."

  De Armijo looked down at the ground, and seemed to commune with himselffor a few moments. Then he stood at his full height, brushed the tracesof dirt from his clothes, and gave Middleton a look of uncompromisingdefiance and hostil
ity. All at once it struck Phil that this was a manof ability and energy, one who could be a bitter and dangerous enemy.

  "You are right in part, Captain Middleton," said de Armijo slowly. "Iwas seeking to take the maps, letters, and instructions that you carryinside your tunic, next, perhaps, to your very flesh. They would bevaluable possessions to us, and it was my duty, as a captain in theMexican army, to take them if I could, from you, a captain in theAmerican army."

  Phil started and looked anew at Middleton. A captain in the Americanarmy! This was why he had walked with that upright carriage! This waswhy he had been so particular about his personal appearance! He beganto see a little way.

  "We, too, have our channels of information," said de Armijo, "and I knewthat you had embarked upon a mission in the West to learn our movementsand forces upon the border, and our temper and disposition with regardto great matters that are agitating both Mexico and America."

  "It is true, all that you say," replied Middleton tranquilly. "I amCaptain George Middleton of the American regular troops, and, at therequest of our War Department, I undertook the hazardous mission ofwhich you speak."

  "You will go no farther with it," said de Armijo.

  "How can you keep me from it?"

  "I cannot--perhaps, but events can--events have. You do not know, but Ido, Captain Middleton, that there is war between your country and mine."

  "Ah!" exclaimed Middleton, and, despite the darkness, Phil saw a suddenflush spring into his face.

  "It is not only war," continued de Armijo, "but there has been a heavybattle, two of them, in fact. Your troops met ours at Palo Alto on Mayeighth, and again on the following day at Resaca de la Palma."

  "Ah!" exclaimed Middleton again, the exclamation being drawn up from thevery depths of his being, while the flush on his face deepened. "Andyou know, I suppose, which won?"

  It was a peculiar coincidence that the moon's rays made their way atthat moment through clouds, and a bright beam fell on the face of Pedrode Armijo. Phil saw the Mexican's face fall a little, despite all hisefforts at self-control. De Armijo himself felt this change in hiscountenance, and, knowing what it indicated to the man who asked thequestion, he replied without evasion:

  "I regret to say that the fortunes of war were against the deserving.Our brave general, Ampudia, and our gallant troops were compelled toretire before your general, Taylor. At least, so say my hasty advices;perhaps they are wrong."

  But Phil could see that de Armijo had no such hope. The news wascorrect, and the boy's heart thrilled with joy because the firstvictories had fallen to his own people.

  "I would not have told you this," continued de Armijo, "had you notcaught me in an attempt to take your papers. Had it been peace, 'steal'would have been the word, but since it is war 'steal' turns toenterprise and zeal. Had I not believed you ignorant that the war hasbegun, and that I might make more profit out of you in our hands than asa fugitive, or at least as one who might have escaped, I should haveopened fire upon you as you approached. Perhaps I made a mistake."

  "All of us do at times," said Middleton thoughtfully.

  "Well spoken," said de Armijo. He lighted a cigarette and took a feweasy puffs.

  "Well, Captain Middleton," he said at length, "the problem is now yours,not ours. You have taken it out of our hands. What are you going to dowith us?"

  "It seems to me," said Captain Middleton, "that this problem, like mostothers, admits of only one solution. You are our prisoners, but wecannot hold you. Our own situation prevents it. We could kill you, butGod forbid a single thought of such a crime. We will take your arms andlet you go. You will not suffer without your arms, as your Comanchefriends are near, a fact which you know very well."

  "We accept your terms," said de Armijo, "since we must, and with yourpermission we will mount our horses and ride away. But it is to beunderstood, Captain Middleton, and you, young Mr. Bedford, and the restof you, that we part as enemies and not as friends."

  "As you will," said Middleton. "I recognize the fact that you have nocause to love us, and perhaps the sooner we both depart from this spotthe better it will be for all."

  "But we may meet again on the battlefield; is it not so?" said deArmijo.

  "That, I cannot tell," replied Middleton, "but it is not unlikely."

  Breakstone and Arenberg still stood by the captured arms, but, withoutcasting a glance at either the arms or their guardians, de Armijosignaled to his men, and they mounted and rode away.

  "Adios!" he called back in Spanish, although he did not turn his face.

  "Adios!" said Middleton in the same tone.

  They did not move or speak until they heard the hoof-beats die away, andthen it was Bill Breakstone who first broke the silence.

  "That certainly came out well," he said. "The curtain came down on afiner finish than the first act indicated. I confess that I didn't knowyour plan, Captain--I don't call you Cap any more--but I trusted you,and I confess, also, that I fell asleep. It was you and Sir Philip ofthe Active Mind and the Watchful Eye who did most of the work.

  "It was in Tex. We met the Mex. They spoke so high, But now they cry.

  Or, at least, they ought to cry when they think how we turned the tableson them. Now, Captain, I suppose we must be up and doing, for thosefellows, as you said, will go straight to the Comanches, and if welinger here our scalps will be of less value to ourselves than toanybody else."

  "It is quite true," said Captain Middleton. "We must reach the train assoon as possible, because the danger to it has increased with our own.But even more important than that is the great change that must be made.Woodfall cannot go on now, since the whole Southwest will be swept bybands of Mexican and Indian horsemen."

  "What must the train do?" asked Phil in anxiety, because this concernedhim very nearly.

  "It must turn south and join the American army on the Rio Grande. Mostof the things that it carries will be of value to our troops, andWoodfall will clear as much profit there as at Santa Fe, which is now acity in arms against us. In this case the path of comparative safetyand honor is also the path of profit. What more could Woodfall ask?"

  "He's a brave man, and brave men are with him," said Bill Breakstone."You won't have to ask him twice."

  Phil's heart had throbbed with joy at Middleton's answer. His quest wasalways in his mind. He had feared that they might turn back, but now itsuited him as well to join the American army as to go on toward SantaFe. The quest was a wide one. But Arenberg suppressed a sigh.

  "Let's be starting," said Middleton. "We'll take their arms with us.They're of value, and Bill, moreover, is without a rifle or musket."

  Breakstone, who had been examining the weapons, uttered a cry of joy.

  "Here is a fine rifle," he said, "one of the best American make. Iwonder how that Mexican got it! The rest are not so good."

  "Take the fine one, Bill," said Middleton, "and we will pack up the restand ride."

  They were out of the woods in a few minutes, and again rode rapidlytoward the west. It was an easy task to pick up the great wagon trailagain, even in the dark of the night, as the grass and soil were troddenor pressed down over a width of fully two hundred yards. The countryrolled lightly. Bill Breakstone thought that a range of hills laytoward the north, but in the night they could not see.

  "I hope that we'll overtake Woodfall before day," said Middleton,"because I've an idea that de Armijo and the little band with him arenot the only Mexicans hereabouts. He would not come so far Northwithout a considerable force, and I suspect that it is his intention tocapture our train, with the aid of the Comanches."

  "We can beat them off," said Breakstone confidently.

  "If our people are warned in time," said Middleton.

  "Much harm iss meant," said Arenberg, speaking for the first time, "butwe may keep much from being done. Our most dangerous enemies before thedaylight comes are the Comanches. They have already learned from deArmijo that we are h
ere, and it iss like as not that they are nowbetween us and the train."

  Middleton looked at his watch, holding it in the moon's rays.

  "It is two hours until day," he said, "and the trail is rapidly growingfresher. We may yet get through before the ring closes. Ah, there theyare now!"

  A hand's breadth of fire suddenly leaped up in the north, and burnedthere like a steady torch. Far in the east, another but fainterappeared and burned, and a third leaped up in the south. But when theylooked back in the west they saw none.

  "Fortune rides on our cruppers so far," said Middleton. "We are on theside of the circle which yet has the open segment. Push on, my boys!"

  Phil's knees involuntarily pressed against the side of his horse, andthat strange sensation, like icy water running down the spine, cameagain. Those three lights speaking to one another in the darkness andacross great distances were full of mystery and awe. But he rodewithout speech, and he looked most of the time at the lights, whichremained fixed, as if what they said could not be changed.

  Middleton, who was in advance, suddenly reined in his horse, and theothers, stopping, also, noticed that just in front of them a depressionran across the plain.

  "It's an arroyo or something like it," said Bill Breakstone, "but thewagons have crossed it anyhow."

  They followed the trail to the other side and then saw that it continuedalmost parallel with the broad gully.

  "Why shouldn't we take to the gully?" said Phil. "It has a smoothbottom, it is wide enough for us, riding two abreast, and it will giveus shelter."

  "A good idea," said Middleton.

  They turned back into the arroyo, and found an easy road there. Thebanks were several feet high, and, as the dusk still hung on the plain,they increased their speed, counting each moment worth one man's life.They came soon to a place where the gully was shallower than usual, andthen they saw two or three faint lights in the plain before them,apparently about a half mile away. Middleton raised a warning hand, andthey stopped.

  "Those are the lights of the train," he said. "They undoubtedly havescouts out, and of course they have seen the signals of the Comanchesand the Mexicans, just as we have, but they do not know as much as wedo. I think we had better go down the arroyo as far as we can, andthen, if the alarm is sounded by our enemies, gallop for it."

  "It iss our choice because there iss none other," said Arenberg.

  They continued, but more slowly, in order to make as little noise aspossible. They had covered more than half the distance when Phil saw afaint line of gray on the horizon line in the east. The next momentagainst the background of gray appeared a horseman, a man of olive skin,clad in sombrero, bright jacket, embroidered trousers, and boots withgreat spurs. He carried a weapon like a spear, and Phil knew at oncethat he was a Mexican lancer, no doubt a sentinel.

  The man saw them, and, instead of attempting to use his lance, snatcheda pistol from his belt and fired point blank. The bullet passed byMiddleton's face, and, like a flash, Bill Breakstone replied with abullet from his rifle. The Mexican went down, but from three points ofthe compass came cries, the shouts of the Mexicans and the long warwhoop of the Comanches.

  "Forward for your lives!" cried Middleton, and, dashing out of thearroyo, they galloped at full speed toward the wagon train.