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

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XIX

  ARENBERG'S QUEST

  It was necessary for several reasons to remain some days in the cove.John Bedford's strength must be restored. After the long confinementand the great excitement of his escape, he suffered from a little fever,and it was deemed best that he should lie quiet in the cabin. Philstayed with him most of the time, while Breakstone and Arenberg huntedcautiously among the mountains, bringing in several deer. They incurredlittle risk in their pursuit, because the mountaineers, few in number atany time, were all drawn off by the war.

  John had a splendid constitution, and, with this as a basis, good andabundant food and the delight of being free built him up very fast. Onthe fourth day Bill Breakstone came in with news received through thePorfirio-Catarina telegraph that the escape of John had caused a greatstir at the castle. Nobody could account for it, and nobody wassuspected. De Armijo was suffering from a very painful wound in theface, and would leave on the following day for the capital to receivesurgical treatment.

  "I'm going to see Porfirio for the last time to-morrow," saidBreakstone, "and as we have some gold left among us, I suggest that wemake a purse of half of it and give it to him. Money can't repay himand his mother for all they've done, but it may serve as an instalment."

  All were willing, and Breakstone departed with a hundred dollars. Hereported on the day following that Porfirio had received it with greatgratitude, and that, as they were now rich, he and his mother were goingto buy a little house of their own among the hills.

  "And now," said Breakstone, "as John here has been gaining about fivepounds a day, and is as frisky as a two year old just turned out topasture, I think we'd better start."

  It was late in the afternoon when he said these words, and they were allpresent in the cabin. Three pairs of eyes turned toward Arenberg. Asigh swelled the chest of the German, but he checked it at the lips.Without saying a word he drew a little packet from the inside of hiswaistcoat and handed it to Phil, who was nearest.

  Phil looked at it long and attentively. It was the portrait of a littleboy, about seven, with yellow hair and blue eyes, a fair little lad wholooked out from the picture with eyes of mirth and confidence. Theresemblance to Arenberg was unmistakable. Phil passed it to Breakstone,who, after a look, passed it on to John, who in his turn, after asimilar look, gave it back to Arenberg.

  "Your boy?" said Breakstone.

  Arenberg nodded. The others, sympathetic and feeling that they were inthe presence of a great grief, waited until he should choose to speak.

  "It iss the picture of my boy," said Arenberg at last. "Hiss name isWilliam--Billy we called him. I came to this country and settled inTexas, which was then a part of Mexico. I married an American girl, andthis iss our boy. We lived at New Braunfels in Texas with the peoplefrom Germany. She died. Perhaps it iss as well that she did. Itsounds strange to hear me say it, but it iss true. The Comanches came,they surprised and raided the town, they killed many, and they carriedaway many women and children. Ah, the poor women who have never beenheard of again! My little boy was among those carried off. I fought, Iwas wounded three times, I was in a delirium for days afterward.

  "As soon as I could ride a horse again I tried to follow the Comanches.They had gone to the Northwest, and I was sure that they had not killedBilly. They take such little boys and turn them into savage warriors,training them through the years. I followed alone toward the westernComanche villages for a long time, and then I lost the trail. Isearched again and again. I nearly died of thirst in the desert;another time only luck kept me from freezing in a Norther. I saw, alas!that I could not do anything alone. I went all the way to New Orleans,whence, I learned, a great train for Santa Fe was going to start.Perhaps among the fearless spirits that gather for such an expedition Icould find friends who would help me in my hunt. I have found them."

  Arenberg stopped, his tale told, his chest heaving with emotion, but noword passing his lips. Bill Breakstone was the first to speak.

  "Hans," he said, "you have had to turn aside from your quest to help inPhil's, which is now finished, and you have done a big part; now weswear one and all to help you to the extent of our lives in yours, andhere's my hand on it."

  He solemnly gave his hand to Arenberg, who gave it a convulsive grasp inhis own big palm. Phil and John pledged their faith in the same manner,and moisture dimmed Arenberg's honest eyes.

  "It will be all right, Hans, old man," said Breakstone. "We'll get yourboy sure. About how old is he now?"

  "Ten."

  "Then the Comanches have certainly adopted him. They'd take a boy atjust about the age he was captured, six or seven, because he would soonbe old enough to ride and take care of himself, and he's not too old toforget all about his white life and to become a thorough Indian. Thatlogic is good. You can rely on it, Hans."

  "It iss so! I feel it iss so!" said Arenberg. "I feel that my boy issout there somewhere with the Comanche riders, and that we will findhim."

  "Of course we will," said Breakstone cheerfully. "Phil, you see that aplace is registered in this company for one William Arenberg, blue eyes,light hair, fair complexion, age ten years. Meanwhile I want to tellyou, John Bedford, that we were so certain of getting you, in spite ofthe impossible, that we brought along an extra rifle, pistol, andammunition, and that we also have a horse for you over in the valleywith the others."

  "It's like all that you have done for me," said John, "thorough andcomplete."

  They went over into the valley the next day, saddled and bridled thehorses, and, well provided with food and ammunition, started for thevast plains of Northwestern Texas, on what would have seemed to others ahopeless quest, distance and space alike were so great. When they cameout upon one of the early ridges John had a sudden and distinct view ofthe Castle of Montevideo lying below, honey-colored, huge, andthreatening. A shudder that had in it an actual tinge of physical painpassed through him. One cannot forget in a moment three years betweenstone walls. But the shudder was quickly gone, and, in its place, camea thrill of pure joy. Freedom, freedom itself, irrespective of all othergood things, still sparkled so gloriously in his veins that it alonecould make him wholly happy.

  They rode on over the ridge. John looked back. The Castle ofMontevideo was shut from his view now forever, although he never ceasedto remember the minutest detail of Cell 87 and the little patch ofmountainside that could be seen from the deep loophole of a window.

  But they were all joyous, Phil because he had found and rescued hisbrother, John because he had been found and rescued, Bill Breakstonebecause he had helped in great deeds ending in triumph, and HansArenberg because they were now engaged upon his own quest, the questthat lay next to his heart, and these comrades of his were the best andmost loyal that a man could ever have for such a service. Three or fouryears rolled away from Hans Arenberg, the blue eyes grew brighter, thepink in his cheeks deepened, and Phil, looking at him, saw that he wasreally a young man. Before, he had always made upon his mind theimpression of middle age.

  They rode steadily toward the northwest for many days without seriousadventure. Once or twice they encountered small bands of Mexicanguerillas, with whom they exchanged distant shots without harm, but thewar was now south of them, and soon they passed entirely beyond itsfringe, leaving the mountains also behind them. They met variousAmerican scouts and trappers, from whom they bought a couple of packhorses, two good rifles, and a large supply of fresh ammunition. It wasexplained by Bill Breakstone, who said:

  "More than enough Merely makes weight, Leas than enough, You're doomed by fate."

  The two extra horses were trained to follow, and they caused no trouble.They carried the supplies of spare arms and ammunition and also of driedvenison for the intervals in which they might find no game. They alsofound it wise to take skin bags of water, buying the bags at a villageoccupied by American troops, which they passed. They found
NorthernMexico almost at peace. Resistance to the Americans there had ceasedpractically, and in the towns buying and selling, living and dying wenton as usual. They had nothing to guard against but sudden ambushes bylittle bands of guerillas, and they were now all so experienced and soskilled with the rifle that they feared no such trap.

  It was wonderful at this time to watch John Bedford grow. He hadalready reached the stature and frame of a man, but when he came fromthe Castle of Montevideo he was a frame, and not much more. Now theflesh formed fast upon this frame, cords and knots of muscle grew uponhis arms, his cheeks filled out, the prison pallor disappeared and gaveway to a fine healthy brown, the creation of the Southern sun, hisbreath came deep and regular from strong lungs, and he duly notifiedBill Breakstone that within another month he would challenge him to amatch at leaping, wrestling, jumping, boxing, or any other contest hewished. They had also bought good clothes for him at one of thevillages, and he was now a stalwart young man, anxious to live intenselyand to make up the three years that he had lost.

  Meantime, leaving the Mexican mountains and the alkali desert of theplateau behind them, they came to the Rio Grande, though farther westthan their first passage. Here they stopped and looked awhile at thestream, a large volume of water flowing in its wide channel of sand.Phil felt emotion. Many and great events had happened since he saw thatwater flowing by the year before, and the miracle for which he hoped hadbeen accomplished. To-day they were upon a quest other than his own,but they pursued it with an equal zeal, and he believed that all theomens and presages were in their favor.

  They found a safe passage through the sandy approaches, swam the riverupon their horses, and stood once more upon the soil of Texas. Philfelt that they would have little more to do with Mexicans, but that theymust dare the formidable power of the Comanches, which now lay beforethem.

  They camped that night in chaparral, where they were well concealed andbuilt no fire. The weather was quite warm again, save for those suddenbut usually brief changes of temperature that often occur in West Texas.But there was no sign of storm in the air, and they felt that theirblankets would be sufficient for the night--however hot the day mightbe, the nights were always cool. Bill Breakstone had first beaten upthe chaparral for rattlesnakes, and, feeling safe from any unpleasantinterruption from that source, they spread out their blankets and laycomfortably upon them while they discussed the plan of their furthermarch.

  They felt quite sure that, with the passage of American troops south,the Comanches had gone far to the westward. The Indians had alreadysuffered too much from these formidable invaders to oppose theirsouthward march. Besides, they had received definite information thatboth Santana and Black Panther with their bands had gone almost to theborder of New Mexico. The sole question with the four was whether tosearch over a wide belt of territory at once, or to go straight westwarduntil they struck the Rio Grande again.

  "I favor the long trip before we begin the hunt," said Bill Breakstone."The chances are all in favor of the Comanches being out there. Thebuffalo herds, which will soon be drifting southward, are thickest inthat part of the country."

  Breakstone's logic seemed good to the others, and the next morning theybegan the long march through a region mostly bare but full of interestfor them all. They passed a river which flowed for many miles on a bedof sand a half mile wide, and this sand everywhere was thick with salt.From the bluffs farther back salt springs gushed forth and flowed downto the river.

  Then they came upon the southern edge of the Great Staked Plain ofTexas, known long ago to the Spaniards and Mexicans as the LlanoEstacado. John Bedford, who was a little in advance, was the first tosee the southern belt of timber. It had been discovered very soon thatJohn's eyes were the keenest of them all. He believed himself that theyhad been strengthened by his long staring through the loophole at thecastle in order to make out every detail of his little landscape on thefar mountainside. Now he saw a faint dark line running along thehorizon until it passed out of sight both to east and west. He calledBreakstone's attention to it at once, and the wise Bill soon announcedthat it was the southern belt of the Cross Timbers, the two parallelstrips of forest growing out of an otherwise treeless country which forhundreds of miles enclose a vast plain.

  "It's the first belt," said Bill Breakstone, "and, while it's not asnear as it looks, we're covering ground pretty fast, and we'll strikethe timber before nightfall. How good it looks to see forest again."

  Even the horses seemed to understand, as they raised their heads,neighed, and then, without any urging from their masters, increasedtheir pace. Phil rode up by the side of his brother John, and watchedthe belt of timber rise from the plain. He had often heard of thisstrange feature of the Texas wilds, but he had never expected to see it.

  A little before nightfall they rode out of a plain, perfectly barebehind them for hundreds of miles, into the timber, which grew up in anarid country without any apparent cause, watered by no rivers or creeksand by no melting snows from mountains. Phil and John looked aroundwith the greatest interest. The timber was of oak, ash, and othervarieties common in the Southwest, but the oak predominated. The treeswere not of great size, but they were trees, and they looked magnificentafter the sparse cottonwoods and bushes along the shallow prairiestreams that they had passed.

  The foliage had already turned brown under the summer sun, but there wasfresh grass within the shadow of the trees, upon which the horses grazedeagerly when they were turned loose. The four meanwhile rejoiced, andlooked around, seeking a place for a camp.

  "How long is this belt, Bill?" asked Phil of Breakstone.

  "I don't know, but maybe it's a thousand miles. There's two of them, youknow. That's the reason they call them the Cross Timbers. After youpass through this belt you cross about fifteen miles of perfectly bareplain, and then you come to the second belt, which is timbered exactlylike this. One belt is about eight miles wide, the other about twelvemiles wide, and, keeping an average distance of about fifteen milesapart, they run all the way from the far western edge of these plains ina southeasterly direction clean down to the Brazos and Trinity Riverbottoms, where they come together and merge in the heavy timber. It's amost wonderful thing, Sir Philip of Buena Vista and Sir John ofMontevideo, and it's worthy of any man's attention."

  "It has mine, that's sure," said Phil, as he walked about through theforest. "It's an extraordinary freak of nature, but the roots of thetwo belts of timber must be fed by subterranean water, though it'sstrange that they should run parallel so many hundreds of miles, alwaysseparated by that strip of dry country fifteen miles wide, as you say,Bill."

  "I can't account for it, Phil," replied Breakstone, "and I don't try.The people who don't believe in queer things are those who stay at homeand sit by the fire. I've roamed all my life, and I've had experienceenough to believe that anything is possible."

  "Look!" exclaimed Phil in delight. "Here's our camp, just made for us!"

  He pointed to a tiny spring oozing from beneath the roots of a largeoak, flowing perhaps thirty yards and then losing itself beneath theroots of another large oak. It looked clear and fresh, and Phil,kneeling down and drinking, found it cold and delightful. BillBreakstone did the same, with results equally happy.

  "Yes, this was made for us," he said, confirming Phil's words. "Thereare not many such springs that I ever heard of in the Cross Timbers, andour luck holds good."

  They called the others, who drank, and after them the horses. It was anideal place for a camp, and they felt so secure that they lighted a fireand cooked food, venison, and steaks of antelope and deer that they hadshot by the way.

  "It might be a good idea," said Breakstone, "to rest here in the shade apart of to-morrow. All of us have been riding pretty hard, and youknow, Hans, old man, that if you go too fast you are not strong enoughto do what you must do when you get there."

  It was Arenberg whose feelings were now consulted most, and, when theylooked at him for an answer, he nod
ded assent.

  Hence they took some of their supplies from the pack horses, and madethemselves more comfortable on the grass about the little spring.Lengthy scouting, done by Arenberg and Breakstone, showed that there wasno danger from Comanche, Lipan, or any other Indian tribes, and theycould take their rest without apprehension. They also dared to build afire for the cooking, a luxury which they enjoyed much, but which wasusually dangerous in the Indian country. Fallen and dry timber wasabundant, and when they had cooked a plentiful supply of venison andbuffalo strips they fell to and ate with the appetite which only lifeunder the stars can give. By and by Bill Breakstone gazed at John inadmiration. But John took no notice. He ate steadily on, varying thecourse with an occasional tin cup of water.

  "Sir John Falstaff," said Bill Breakstone, "I've read a lot about you inShakespeare, and on two or three memorable occasions I have played you.You have been renowned two hundred and fifty years for your appetite,and I want to tell you right now that your fame isn't up to the realthing by half. Say, Sir John, they didn't give you much to eat in thatCastle of Montevideo, did they?"

  "Tortillas, frijoles, tamales, tortillas, frijoles, tamales," repliedJohn in a muffled voice, as he reached for another delicate piece offried deer.

  "Go right on," said Bill Breakstone, "I've no wish to stop you. Make upfor all the three years that you lost."

  John, taking his advice, stuck to his task. Although imprisonment hadgreatly wasted him, it had never impaired his powerful and healthyconstitution. Now he could fairly feel his muscles and sinews growingand the new life pouring into heart and lungs.

  After supper they lay upon their blankets in a circle, with their feetto the fire, and spoke of the land that stretched beyond the two beltsof trees, the Great Staked Plain.

  "We'll find it hot," said Breakstone, "and parts of it are sandy andwithout water, but we should get through to the Rio Grande, especiallyas we have, besides the sand, a big region of buffalo grass; and thenthe land of gramma grass, in both of which we can find plenty of game.Game and water are the things for which we must look. But we won't talkof trouble now. It's too fine here."

  They spent the next day and the following night among the trees, andwere fortunate enough to find in the oaks a number of fine wild turkeyswhich abounded in all parts of the Southwest. They secured four, andadded them to their larder. The next day they rode through the belt,and across the twelve miles of bare country into the second belt, whichwas exactly like the first, with the oak predominating.

  "Makes me think of the rings of Saturn," said Phil, as they entered thetimber once more.

  But they passed the night only in the inner belt, and emerged the nextmorning upon the great plain that ran to the Rocky Mountains.

  "Now," said Bill Breakstone, "we leave home and its comforts behind."

  Phil felt the truth of his words. He understood now why the Bible putso much value upon wood and water. To leave the belt of trees was likegoing away from a wooded park about one's house in order to enter ableak wilderness. It was very hot after they passed from the shade, andbefore them stretched the rolling plains once more, without trees,reaching the sky-line, and rolling on beyond it without limit. The sunwas pouring down from a high sky that flamed like brass. BillBreakstone caught the look on Phil's face and laughed.

  "You hate to give up an easy place, don't you, Phil?" he said. "Don'tdeny it, because I hate it just as much as you do. Arenberg aloneforgets what lies before us, because he has so much to draw him on."

  Arenberg was too far ahead to hear them. He always rode in advance now,and the place was conceded to him as a right. They passed through aregion of gramma grass which stood about three feet in height, andentered a stretch of buffalo grass, where little clumps of the grasswere scattered over the brown plain.

  "It doesn't look as if great buffalo herds could be fed on tufts likethat," said Phil.

  "But they can be," said Bill Breakstone. "It looks scanty, but it's gotsome powerfully good property in it, because cattle as well as buffalothrive on it as they do on nothing else. We ought to see buffalohereabouts."

  But for two days after entering this short grass region they saw not asingle buffalo. Antelope, also, were invisible, and they began to beworried about their supplies of food. Both Breakstone and Arenbergbelieved that there were hunting parties of Indians farther westward,and they kept a sharp watch for such dangerous horsemen, Fortunatelythey had been able to find enough water for their horses in little poolsand an occasional spring, and the animals retained their strength.Finally they encamped one evening by the side of a prairie stream soslender that it was a mere trickle over the sand. It also contained aslight taste of salt, but not enough to keep both men and horses fromdrinking eagerly.

  After supper Phil took his rifle and walked up the little stream. Ithad become a habit with the four, whenever they camped, to look aboutfor game. But they had been disappointed so often that Phil's quest nowwas purely mechanical. Still he was alert and ready. The training ofthe wilderness compelled any one with wisdom to acquire such quantitiesquickly. He walked perhaps half a mile along the brook, which was edgedhere and there with straggling bushes, and at other points with nothingat all. It was twilight now, and suddenly something huge and brown roseup among a cluster of the dwarf bushes directly in Phil's path. In thefading light it loomed monstrous and misshapen, but Phil knew that itwas a lone bull buffalo, probably an old and evil-tempered outcast fromthe herd. He saw that the big brute was angry, but he was a cool hunternow, and, taking careful aim, he planted a bullet near the vital spot.The buffalo, head down, charged directly at him, but he leaped to oneside and, as the mortally stricken beast ran on, he reloaded and sent ina second bullet, which promptly brought him to earth.

  Still practicing that wilderness caution which never allows a man'srifle to remain unloaded, he rammed home a third bullet, and thencontemplated his quarry, an enormous bull, scarred from fights andundoubtedly tough eating. But Phil was very happy. It was in this casenot the pride of the hunter, but the joy of the commissary. Tough thoughthis bull might be, there was enough of him to feed the four many a longday.

  While he was standing there he heard the sound of running feet, and heknew that it was the others coming to the report of his shots. BillBreakstone first hove into view.

  "What is it, Phil?" he cried, not yet seeing the mountain of buffalothat lay upon the ground.

  "Nothing much," replied Phil carelessly, "only I've killed a wholebuffalo herd while you three lazy fellows were lying upon the groundplaying mumble peg, or doing something else trivial. I'll get youtrained to work after awhile."

  Breakstone saw the buffalo and whistled with delight. The four set towork, skinned him, and then began to cut off the tenderest parts of themeat for drying. This was a task that took them a long time, butfortunately the night was clear, with a bright moon. Before theyfinished they heard the howling of wolves from distant points, and Philoccasionally caught slight glimpses of slender dark forms on the plain,but he knew they were prairie wolves that would not dare to attack, andhe went on with his work.

  "They'll have a great feast here when we leave with what we want," saidBill Breakstone. "They're not inviting creatures, but I'm sorry for 'emsometimes, they seem so eternally hungry."

  After the task was finished, three went back for the horses to carrytheir food supply, and Phil was left to guard it. He was tired now, andhe sat down on the ground with his rifle across his knee. The moon cameout more brightly, and he saw well across the prairie. The slender,shadowy forms there increased in numbers, and they whined witheagerness, but the boy did not have the slightest fear. Nevertheless,he was glad they were not the great timber wolves of the North. Thatwould have been another matter. At last he took a piece of the buffalothat his comrades and he would not use and flung it as far as he couldupon the prairie.

  There was a rush of feet, a confused snarling and fighting, and then along death howl. In the rush some wolf had
been bitten, and, at thesight of the blood, the others had leaped upon him and devoured him.

  Phil, who understood the sounds, shuddered. He had not meant to causecannibalism, and he was glad when his comrades returned with the horses.They spent two days jerking the buffalo meat, as best they could in thetime and under the conditions, and they soon found the precaution one ofgreat wisdom, as they did not see any more game, and, on the second dayafterward, entered a region of sand. The buffalo grass disappearedentirely, and there was nothing to sustain life. This was genuinedesert, and it rolled before them in swells like the grassy prairie.

  The four, after going a mile or so over the hot sand, stopped andregarded the gloomy waste with some apprehension. It seemed to stretchto infinity. They did not see a single stalk or blade of vegetation,and the sand looked so fine, or of such small grain, to Phil that hedismounted, picked up a handful of it, and threw it into the air. Thesand seemingly did not fall back, but disappeared like white smoke. Hetried it a second and a third time, with the same result in each case.

  "It's not sand," he said, "it's just dust."

  "Dust or sand," said Bill Breakstone, "we must rush our way through it,and I'm thinking that we've got to make every drop of water we have inthe bags last as long as possible."

  They rode on for several hours, and the very softness of the sand madethe going the worst that they had ever encountered. The feet of thehorses sank deep in it, and they began to pant with weariness, but therewas no relief. The vertical sun blazed down with a fiery splendor thatPhil hitherto would have believed impossible. The whole earth shimmeredin the red glare, and the rays seemed to penetrate. All of them hadbroad brimmed hats, and they protected their eyes as much as possible.The weariness of the horses became so great that after awhile the ridersdismounted and walked by the side of them. Two hours of this, and theystopped in order that Breakstone might take the direction with a littlecompass that he carried in a brass box about two inches in diameter. Hehad made the others buy the same kind, but they had not yet used them.

  "This is the best kind of compass to put in your baggage on such a tripas this," he said, "and it says that we re going straight on in the waywe want to go. Come boys, the more sand we pass the less we have infront of us."

  They staggered bravely on, but the glare seemed to grow. The whole skywas like a hot, brassy cover that held them prisoners below. Itscarcely seemed possible to Phil that trees, green grass, and runningwater had ever existed anywhere. A light wind arose, but, unlike otherwinds that cool, this wind merely sent the heat against their faces instreams and currents that were hotter than ever. It also whirled thefine sand over them in blinding showers. Acting on the advice ofBreakstone, they drew up their horses in a little circle, and stood inthe center shielding their eyes with their hands. Peering over hishorse's back, Phil saw hills of sand four or five feet high picked upand carried away, while hills equally high were formed elsewhere.Ridges disappeared, and new ridges were formed. The wind blew for abouttwo hours, and then the four, covered with sand, resumed their marchnoting with joy that the sun was now sinking and the heat decreasing.The very first shadows brought relief, but the greatest solace was tothe eye. Despite the protection of hand and hat-brims, they were soburnt by the sand and glare that it was a pain to see. Yet the fourwere so weary of mind and body that they said nothing, as they trudgedon until the edge of the sun cut into the western plain on the horizon.Phil had never before seen such a sun. He had not believed it could beso big, so glaring, and so hot. He was so glad now that the earth wasrevolving away from it that he raised his clenched hand and shook hisfist in its very eye.

  "Good-by to you," he exclaimed. "And I was never before so glad to seeyou go!"

  Phil spoke in such deadly earnest that Bill Breakstone, despite hisaching muscles and burning throat, broke into laughter.

  "You talk as you feel, Phil," he said, "but it's no good to threaten thesun. It's just gone for a little while, and it will be back againto-morrow as bright and hot as ever."

  "But while it iss gone we will be glad," said Arenberg.

  Down dropped the shadows, deeper and deeper, and a delicious coolnessstole over the earth. It was like a dew on their hot eyeballs, and thepain there went swiftly away. A light wind blew, and they took thefresh air in long, deep breaths. They had been old three or four hoursago, now they were young again. The horses, feeling the same influence,raised their lowered heads and walked more briskly.

  The shadows merged into the night, and now it was actually cold. Butthey went on an hour or more in order to find a suitable place for acamp. They chose at last a hollow just beyond a ridge of sand thatseemed more solid than usual. On the slope grew a huge cactus withgiant arms, the first that they had seen in a long time.

  "Here we rest," said Bill Breakstone. "What more could a man ask?Plenty of sand for all to sleep on. No crowding. Regular king'spalace. Water in the water-bags, and firewood ready for us."

  "Firewood," said John Bedford. "I fail to see it."

  Breakstone pointed scornfully to the huge cactus.

  "There it is, a whole forest of it," he said. "We break down thatcactus, which is old and dry, and it burns like powder. But it willburn long enough to boil our coffee, which we need."

  But they took a good drink of water first, and gave another to every oneof the horses. Then they chopped down the giant cactus and cut it intolengths. As Breakstone had said, it burned with a light flame and wasrapidly consumed, leaving nothing but thin ashes. But they were able toboil their coffee, which refreshed them even more than the food, andthen they lay on their blankets, taking a deep, long rest. The contrastbetween night and day was extraordinary. The sun seemed to have takenall heat with it, and the wind blew. They could put on coats again,draw blankets over their bodies, and get ready for delicious sleep.They knew that the sun with all its terrors would come back the nextday, but they resolved to enjoy the night and its coolness to the full.

  The wind rose, and dust and sand were blown across the plain, but itpassed over the heads of the four who lay in the narrow dip between theswells, and they soon fell into a sleep that built up brain and muscleanew for the next day's struggle.