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

The man saw them, and, instead of attempting to use his lance, s.n.a.t.c.hed a pistol from his belt and fired point blank. The bullet pa.s.sed by Middleton's face, and, like a flash, Bill Breakstone replied with a bullet from his rifle. The Mexican went down, but from three points of the compa.s.s came cries, the shouts of the Mexicans and the long war whoop of the Comanches.

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

CHAPTER IX

THE FIERY CIRCLE

The thin gray light in the east broadened into a bar as the hoofbeats of the four thundered over the plain. From left to right came shouts, the yells of the Indians and the fierce cries of the Mexicans.

"Bend low," cried Middleton, "and we may escape their bullets!"

Phil lay almost upon his horse's neck, but it was an unconscious act.

He was thrilling with excitement, as the four hors.e.m.e.n almost clove the morning mist, and rode on swift hoofs straight toward the wagon train.

Then came the rattling of rifles and whistling of arrows from either side. "Ping!" the bullets sang in his ear and "Ping!" the arrows sang, also. He remembered afterward that he wished, if he were hit at all, to be hit by a bullet instead of an arrow; an arrow sticking in one's flesh would be very c.u.mbersome and painful. But neither arrow nor bullet struck true. Their ride was too sudden and swift, and the light too faint to permit good aim to the Mexicans and Comanches. Yet Phil heard confused sounds, shouted commands, and the noise of hurrying feet. He saw dark faces appearing in the mist on either side, and he also saw the outlines of wagons through the same mist in front. Then he saw men, rifle in hand, who seemed to rise out of the plain in front of the wagons. Two of the men raised their rifles and took aim at the galloping hors.e.m.e.n.

"We are friends, and we bring you warning!" shouted Middleton in a tremendous voice. "Don't fire upon us!"

But the men and three others who appeared near them pulled the trigger.

Phil did not hear the ping of the bullets, and now he realized that they fired not at his comrades and himself but at those who pursued. A death-cry and yells of rage came from behind them, but in another minute they were within the line of sentinels and were springing from their horses, ready to take their part in the combat that they expected.

All the morning mists were driven away at that moment by the sun, as if a veil had been lifted, and the whole plain stood out clear and distinct under a brilliant sky. Before them were the wagons, drawn up in a circle in the customary fashion of a camp, the horses and mules in the center, and the men, arms in hand, forming an outer ring for the wagons.

But from the northeast and the southeast two lines were converging upon them, and Phil's heart kindled at the sight.

The line in the northeast was made up of red hors.e.m.e.n, four hundred Comanches, naked to the waist, horribly painted, and riding knee to knee, the redoubtable chiefs, Santana and Black Panther, at their head.

The line in the southeast was composed of Mexican cavalry, lancers splendidly mounted, the blades of their lances and their embroidered jackets glittering in the sun. They made their horses prance and cavort, and many in the first rank whirled lariats in derision.

A tall figure strolled forward and welcomed Middleton and his comrades.

It was Woodfall, his face flushed somewhat, but his manner undaunted.

"I'm glad to welcome you back, Mr. Middleton," he said, "and with your comrades, all of them alive and well. But what does this mean? Why do those men ride to attack, when this is the soil of Texas?"

He waved his hand toward the advancing Mexican column.

"They advance against us," replied Middleton, "because this is war, war between the United States and Mexico--we learned that last night from one of their own officers--and there have been two heavy battles on the Rio Grande, both victorious for us."

It was not strange that a sudden cheer burst from the men who heard these words. Woodfall listened to it grimly, and, when it died, he said:

"Then if these Mexicans attack, we'll soon have a third victory to our credit. The Indian bow and the Mexican lance can't break through a circle of riflemen, entrenched behind wagons--riflemen who know how to shoot."

Again that defiant, even exultant cheer rose from the men who heard, and, pa.s.sing on like a fire in dry gra.s.s, it rolled all around the circle of wagons. The Mexicans heard it. They detected the defiant note in it, and, wisely, they checked their speed. The column of Indian warriors also came more slowly. Philip Bedford, hardened in so brief a s.p.a.ce to danger and war, did not feel any great fear, but the scene thrilled him like a great picture painted in living types and colors against the background of the earth. There were the red hors.e.m.e.n, the sun deepening the tints of their coppery faces and bringing out the glowing colors of their war bonnets. To the southeast the Mexican column, also, was a great ribbon of light lying across the plain, the broad blades of the lances catching the sun's rays and throwing them back in golden beams.

"A fine show," said Woodfall, "and if those Mexicans had two or three cannon they might wipe us out, but they haven't, and so we're lucky."

"I think I ought to tell you, Mr. Woodfall," said Middleton, "that I'm a captain in the regular army, Captain Middleton, and that I've been making use of your hospitality to find what forces the enemy had in these parts, and what movements he was making. I was sent by our government, and, as you see, I'm finding what I was sent to find."

"I thought there was something military about your cut, Captain," said Woodfall, "and it seems to me to be a good thing that you are with us.

If we've helped you without knowing, then you, knowing it, can help us now."

The hands of the two men met in the strong clasp of friendship and trust.

"They're about to move," said Middleton, who practically took command.

"I suggest that we go inside the circle of wagons now, and that at least two-thirds of our men devote their attention to the lancers. The Mexicans are brave; we must not forget that."

They went inside at once, where a few men were detailed to see that the horses and mules did not make too great a turmoil, while the rest posted themselves for defense. The wagons were in reality a formidable barrier for an attacking force that did not have artillery. The majority of the Americans lay down under the wagons between the wheels. Phil was under one of them with Bill Breakstone on one side of him and Arenberg on the other. Middleton was elsewhere with Woodfall.

"Much harm iss meant," said Arenberg, "and I would say to you, Philip, although little advice iss needed by you now, not to fire too soon, and to remember, when you take aim, to allow for the fact that they are coming toward us at a gallop."

"That's right," said Bill Breakstone. "Old Hans, here, knows."

"Ach," said Arenberg, uttering a sigh, "I love peace, and I never thought to have a part in cruel Indian and Mexican battles."

It occurred to Phil that the sigh had no reference to the coming combat.

The German's face showed sadness, but not a trace of fear. He turned his gaze from Arenberg and fixed it upon the Mexican column which they were facing. He thought that he saw de Armijo in the front rank among the officers in brilliant dress, but he was not sure. The distance was too great. He wondered whether he would shoot at him, if he saw him later in the charge.

The sunlight was intensely bright, such as one sees only on great upland plains, and the Mexican lancers with their horses stood out, like carving, against the background of gold and blue. Phil saw the column suddenly quiver, as if a single movement ran through all. The lances were lifted a little higher, and their blades cast broader beams. A flag fluttered in the front rank and unfolded in the slight wind.

The notes of a trumpet sounded high and clear, the Mexicans uttered a long, fierce shout, the colors shifted and changed, like water flowing swiftly, as the column broke into a gallop and came straight toward the wagons, the plain thundering with the beat of their hoofs. From another part of the compa.s.s came a second cry, higher pitched, longer drawn, and with more of the whine of the wolf in it. Phil knew that it came from the Comanches, who were also charging, led by Black Panther and Santana, but he did not take his eyes from the Mexicans.

The two attacking columns began to fire scattering shots, but the defenders of the wagons had not yet pulled a trigger, although many a forefinger was trembling with eagerness.

"It's pretty, but it's a waste, a dead waste," said Bill Breakstone. "I hate to shoot at them, because I've no doubt many a brave young fellow is out there, but we've got to let them have it. Steady, Phil, steady!

They're coming close now."

Suddenly they heard the loud shout, "Fire!" It was Middleton who uttered it, and everybody obeyed. A sheet of flame seemed to spurt from the wagons, and the air was filled with singing lead. The entire head of the Mexican column was burnt away. The ground was strewn with the fallen. Riderless horses, some wounded and screaming with pain, galloped here and there. The column stopped and seemed to be wavering.

Several officers, sword in hand--and now Phil was sure that he saw de Armijo among them--were trying to urge the lancers on. All the Americans were reloading as fast as they could, and while the Mexicans yet wavered, they poured in a second volley. Unable to withstand it, the lancers broke and fled, bearing the officers away with them in their panic.

Phil, Bill Breakstone, and Arenberg crawled from under the wagon and stood on the outside, erect again. There they contemplated for a few moments the wreck that they and their comrades had made. From the Indian point of attack came the sound of retiring shots, and they knew that the Comanches had been quickly repulsed, also.

"It was one of the most foolish things I ever saw," said Bill Breakstone, "to ride right into the mouths of long-barreled, well-aimed rifles like ours. Their numbers didn't help them. What say you, Sir Philip of the Rifle and the Wagon?"

"It seems to me that you're right," replied the boy. "I don't think they'll charge again, nor will the Comanches."

"You're right, too; they've had enough."

The Mexicans and Comanches, having gathered up their wounded, united and remained in a dark cloud beyond rifle shot, apparently intending neither to charge again nor to go away. But the defenders of the train were cheerful. They had suffered no loss, being protected so well, and they were willing enough to meet a second attack delivered in the same fashion. But Middleton and Woodfall had hot coffee and tea served, and then with strong field gla.s.ses they observed the enemy.

"I believe they are in great doubt," said Middleton. "They may think they can starve us out, but the Mexicans will not want to wait for so long a process; it is likely that they will prefer going southward to join their main army."

He said these words aloud, where many could hear, but a little while afterward he and Woodfall drew to one side and talked a long time in low tones. Phil could tell by their faces that they were very earnest, and he felt sure that a proposition would be made before long. He called Breakstone's attention to them.

"You're right," said Bill, "they'll have something to say soon, and it will concern all of us. Ah, there comes the Cap--I mean the Captain--now, and he's going to make a speech."