Caleb Cobb's indifference to their plight annoyed Call. The man had led them so far out on the plain that they couldn't get back- and yet the company was so weakened and so badly supplied that they couldn't expect to defeat a Mexican army, either. He wondered if he would live long enough to serve under a military leader who really knew what he was doing. So far, he had not found one who could survive the country itself, much less one who could beat the country and the enemy. Buffalo Hump, with only nine men, had nearly destroyed Major Chevallie's command, and now Caleb Cobb's force of two hundred men had dwindled to forty before it even got to its destination.

There was nothing to do but keep the campfires going and wait for morning. They made a fire not far from where Shadrach lay with Matilda. The old man was coughing constantly. Matilda came over briefly, to welcome them back. She looked dispirited, though.

"This bad weather's bad for Shad," she said. "I'm afraid if it don't dry up he'll die. I do my best to keep him warm, but he's getting worse, despite me."

Indeed, the old mountain man coughed all night-long, heaving coughs. Gus finally got warm enough to stretch out and sleep, but Call was awake all night. He didn't leave the fire and walk, as he often did, but he didn't sleep, either. Both the Mexican boys came and sat with him. They were fearful of all Texans, except the three they knew.

Finally, just as grey light was edging across the long plain, Call slept a little, but the sleep produced a nightmare in which the great bear and Buffalo Hump both attacked the troop. Men were falling and running, and he had become separated from his weapons and could not defend himself. He saw arrows going into Long Bill Coleman; the great bear had knocked Gus down and was snarling over him. Call wanted to attack the bear, but he had nothing but his hands. Then he saw Buffalo Hump catch Bigfoot and slash at his head with a knife. Bigfoot's head came off, and the huge Comanche held it up and cried a terrible war cry.

"Wake up ... Woodrow . . . you've skeert the camp!" Matilda said, shaking him out of his dream. Juan and Jose were staring at him as if he had gone mad. Gus still slept, but men from the other campfires were rousing themselves and looking at Call, who felt deeply embarrassed by the scrutiny.

"I didn't mean to scare folks," he said, his hands shaking. "I was just dreaming about that bear."

THE TROOP, HUNGRY, COLD, and discouraged, had marched only five miles when they topped a rise and saw the Mexican army camped on the plain before them. The encampment seemed to cover the whole plain; it stretched far back toward the mountains.

Bigfoot saw the camp first and motioned for the troop to hold up, but the signal came too late. Two Indian scouts on fast horses were already speeding back toward the Mexican camp.

Caleb Cobb was the only man on horseback. He rode to the crest of the ridge and surveyed the encampment, silently.

"I told you they'd raise the whole country," Bigfoot said.

"Shut up, I'm counting," Caleb said. He had his spyglass out and was looking the Mexicans over-if he was alarmed he didn't show it.

Bigfoot, though, immediately saw something he didn't like.

"Colonel, they have cavalry," he said. "I'd make it at least a hundred horses.""More than a hundred," Caleb said, without removing his spyglass from his eye. "That's what I'm counting. I make it a hundred and fifty horses."

Then he took the spyglass out of his eye and looked around at the men. He was astride the only horse.

"That beats us by one hundred and forty-nine horses, I guess," he said.

"Hell, they've even got a cannon," Bigfoot said. "They drug a cannon all this way, thinking we was an army."

"We are an army, Mr. Wallace," Caleb said. "We're just a small army. It looks like we're up against superior numbers."

"Not all armies can fight," Shadrach said. "Maybe they're an army of boys, like these two here. We're an army of men."

Call and Gus stood looking at the assembled Mexicans, wondering what would happen.

"I guess we need a herd of bears," Call said. "Ten or twelve big bears could probably scatter them like that one bear scattered that first bunch."

Long Bill Coleman began to look around for cover-only there was no cover, only rolling prairie. Shadrach was still coughing, but he had his long rifle in his hand and seemed invigorated by the prospect of battle. Matilda had even acquired a rifle from someone -she planted herself by Shadrach.

The troop stood together, and watched the two scouts race toward the Mexican camp.

"Them scouts were Mescalero Apache," Bigfoot said. "Those hills are their country. The Mexicans must have paid them big, because Apaches don't usually work for Mexicans."

The arrival of the Texans, in plain view on the ridge, put the whole Mexican encampment into a ferment of activity. The cavalrymen raced to saddle their mounts, many of which were skittish and resistant. Everywhere men were loading guns and making ready for war. In the center of the encampment was a huge white tent.

"I expect that's where the general sleeps," Caleb said. "I regret losing my canoe."

"Why?" Bigfoot asked. "We're on dry land."

"I know, but if I had my canoe I'd hurry back with it to the nearest river, and I'd paddle down whatever stream it was untilI came to the Arkansas, and then I'd paddle down the Arkansas until I came to the Mississippi, and then I'd paddle right on down Old Miss until I struck New Orleans."

He stopped and smiled at Brognoli, who stared back, glassy eyed.

"Once I got to New Orleans I'd stop and buy me a whore," Caleb went on. "Once I had my fill of whores I'd go back to the pirate life, on the good old gulf, and rob all the ships leaving Mexico. That would be the easy way to get the Spanish silver. They ship most of it to Spain, anyway. It would sure beat traipsing across these goddamn plains."

"I think we should count the ammunition, Colonel," Bigfoot said. "We don't have any to waste."

Caleb ignored this sensible suggestion.

He sat on his horse, watching the flurry of preparations in the Mexican camp.

"The truth is, I ain't felt the same about this enterprise since Corporal McCrae let my dog, Jeb, fall to his death," Caleb said. "I think I'll just ride over and have a parley with this army. Do we still have the flag?"

They had brought along the flag of the Republic of Texas, but no one had seen it in awhile.

"Why would you need a flag?" Bigfoot asked.

"Well, we brought the damn rag, why not use it?" Caleb said. "It might impress that general, if there is a general."

The flag was finally located, in Johnny Carthage's kit. At some point he had become the keeper of the flag, but life had been so strenuous that he had forgotten the fact.

Caleb tied the flag to his rifle barrel, and prepared to leave. The troop was apprehensive, not sure what his intentions were. Half of the men were disposed to run, though running across the prairies on foot, with their stomachs empty, offered a poor prospect, considering that the Mexicans, by Caleb's count, had one hundred and fifty cavalrymen.

At the last minute, Caleb looked at Call and nodded.

"Come with me, Corporal-I need attendants," he said. "You too, McCrae. Let's march over there and test this general's manners. If he's got any, he'll ask us to breakfast."

"If he does, snatch us some bacon," Long Bill Coleman said. "I sure would like to have a nice bite of bacon.""Can we take our guns?" Gus asked. He did not want to go among so many Mexicans without his guns.

"You're my escort-take your guns," Caleb said. "An escort's supposed to march in front. I wish we had a drummer, but we don't. Let's get going."

Gus and Call started marching straight for the Mexican camp. Caleb paused long enough to light a cigar-he had carefully preserved and rationed his cigars-before coming along behind them.

"Good Lord, look at them," Gus said, pointing toward the Mexican camp. "We ought to have brought the whole troop as an escort."

"I don't think they'll shoot us-this is a parley," Call said, though he wasn't fully confident on that score. Across the plain the whole Mexican army stood in battle readiness, waiting for them. The one hundred and fifty cavalrymen were mounted-the infantry, hundreds strong, had been assembled in lines by several captains and lieutenants, who rode back and forth yelling instructions. There were men standing by the cannon. An imposing man in a white uniform stood outside the tent, surrounded by aides.

For once, the law of distance that seemed to govern their travels on the prairies was reversed. Instead of the Mexican army being farther away than it seemed-half a day away would have been fine with Gus-it proved to be closer than it seemed. In no time, Call and Gus were looking right down into the barrel of the cannon-or so it seemed. The first line of soldiers was only a hundred yards away.

"They won't kill us," Call said. "It wouldn't be worth their while. There's only three of us, and look at them. They'd be behaving like cowards if they took advantage of us."

"But maybe they are cowards," Gus suggested. "If they shoot off that cannon it will blow us to bits."

Now and then they looked back at their commander, Caleb Cobb -he seemed undisturbed, keeping his horse to a walk and smoking his long cigar.