The extraordinary march lasted all day. Neither side committed a single hostile act, and the silence, so far as the men were concerned, was unbroken. The distance of about a thousand yards was preserved, but the Mexicans and Comanches were still there, and it seemed that they did not intend to be shaken off. About sunset they came to one of the shallow prairie streams, this time a mere brook, but with plenty of water for their animals.

"Here we camp," said Bill Breakstone, and almost as he spoke Middleton gave the word. One line of wagons went forward, the other stopped, the two ends joined, and then they swung around in a circle, with the stream flowing down the center of the enclosure. It was all done with so much celerity and so little trouble that the Mexicans and Comanches seemed to be taken by surprise. A few of them rode nearer, and some of the Comanches fired arrows, but they fell far short, and the Americans paid no attention to them.

"We'll take a bite and a drink, Phil," said Bill Breakstone, "a bite of cold meat and a drink of cold water."

"It iss good," said Arenberg. "That iss what we will do."

They had no fuel with which to light fires, but there were lanterns carrying candles in the train, and these were hung on the sides of the wagons facing the inner ring, casting a pleasant light on the men as they pa.s.sed. But Phil and his two comrades, food in hand, went outside.

"Hope it won't come on too dark," said Breakstone. "A thick night is what we've got to dread. If our friends out there mean to do anything, they'll try it to-night, or I'm mightily fooled."

In the east, where the enemy hung, the twilight had come already and now both Mexicans and Comanches were blurring with the darkness. A lance blade or two gave back a last flash of fire from the setting sun, but in a few more instants the rays ceased to reach them, and they sank into the night of the eastern plain.

"Feels damp, and that's bad," said Bill Breakstone. "Clouds mean a thick night, and a thick night means a lot of stalking and sniping by those rascals out there. Well, well, lay on, Macduff, and it won't be we who will first cry, 'Hold, enough!'"

The twilight soon deepened into dark, the wind rose a little, and, as Breakstone had feared, it brought with it shifts of rain, light showers only, but cold and very unpleasant. Only a few of the most hardened slept. All the others kept vigilant watch about the wagons. Phil, Breakstone, and Arenberg remained together, and nothing happened until nearly midnight. Then the mixed force of the enemy, creeping near, opened fire from every side, but the American sharpshooters lying down on the ground replied, firing at the flashes. This combat lasted nearly half an hour, and it was more spectacular than dangerous to the defenders.

"This is drawn out rather long and produces nothing, Sir Philip of the Midnight, the Wilderness, and the Rain," said Bill Breakstone, "and with our long range rifles we have the advantage. They're merely wasting good lead. Ah, I think I must have got that fellow! I hope it was one of those sneaking Comanches, and, if so, he deserves it for keeping me here on the ground in the rain, when I ought to be snoozing comfortably in a wagon."

He had fired at a flash about a hundred yards away, and his own fire drew shots from different points. Phil heard bullets whistling over his head, but, as they were hugging the earth very closely, he did not feel any great alarm over such blind shooting.

The firing increased a little presently, and now its effect upon the boy was wholly spectacular. He watched for the points of flame as one would for fireworks. Sometimes the flashes looked blue, sometimes yellow, and sometimes red. At other times they showed variations and new combinations of all three colors.

"Since one has to watch, it's rather pretty, and it breaks the monotony," said Bill Breakstone. "Now, I think our little display of fireworks is ceasing."

Bill was a good prophet, because the firing quickly sank to a few scattered shots, and then to nothing. After that, they lay in the darkness and silence for a long time. Phil was wet and cold, and he longed for a warm blanket and the shelter of a wagon, but he was not one to flinch. As long as those two skilled plainsmen, Breakstone and Arenberg, thought it necessary to remain, he would remain without a complaint. He also expected that some other hostile movement would be made.

At some late hour of the night the boy heard the rapid beat of many hoofs, and then a ma.s.s of hors.e.m.e.n showed dimly in the dusk, dark squadrons galloping down upon the train. But the riflemen were ready.

The train became at once a living circle of fire. A storm of bullets beat upon the charging hors.e.m.e.n, and fifty yards from the barrier they halted. There they wavered a few moments, while wounded horses screamed with pain, then turned and galloped back as fast as they had come.

"That's the fall of the curtain on the last act," said Bill Breakstone.

"They thought to catch us napping, to stampede our horses, or to do something else unpleasant to us that depended on surprise."

Nevertheless, they watched all the remainder of the night, and Phil was devoutly glad when he saw the first touch of rose in the east, the herald of the new day. Before them the plain lay clear, except a fallen horse near by, and there was no sign of the enemy.

"They have had enough," said Bill Breakstone. "The darkness offered them their only chance, and now the sunrise has put them to flight.

"Night, Fight.

Sun, Done.

"That's a short poem, Phil, one of the shortest that I've ever composed, but it's highly descriptive, and it's true."

_It was_ true. Middleton and Woodfall, even when they searched the entire circle of the horizon with powerful field gla.s.ses, could find no trace of the enemy.

CHAPTER X

PHIL'S LETTER

Now began the great march. The whole train was filled with an extraordinary animation. South to Taylor! South to the Rio Grande!

South to join the forlorn hope against the Mexican ma.s.ses! It appealed to them more than Santa Fe had ever appealed. Wild spirits, thrilling with the love of adventure and the hope of battle, they had before them the story of Texas and its gallant and victorious stand against overwhelming numbers. They knew every detail of that desperate and successful struggle, and they felt that they could do as well. Indeed, among them were some who had been mere boys at San Jacinto, and they began to talk of Sam Houston and that glorious war, of Goliad and of the Alamo, when the last man fell.

But while they talked they worked. In their zeal and enthusiasm they forgot that not one man in ten had closed his eyes the night before, and, a half hour after the brief breakfast was finished, they started again. It was a long journey, but they were prepared for it, and they moved steadily onward all through the day. Two or three times single hors.e.m.e.n were seen through the field gla.s.ses, but they were so far away none could tell whether they were Indians or Mexicans. Middleton, however, was firmly convinced that they would not be attacked again, at least not by the same forces which had been making so much trouble for them.

"There isn't much profit in hunting us," he said, "we are too difficult game, and the hunter has suffered more damage than the hunted.

Moreover, de Armijo will want to join the main Mexican army near the Rio Grande. More glory is to be won there, and, if I mistake not, he is an exceedingly ambitious man. But the Comanches will leave so formidable a foe to snap up wandering hunters or small parties."

Middleton's theory seemed probable, but they did not relax the watch.

That night half the men stood guard until midnight, and the other half until morning. The whole night pa.s.sed in complete peace. There was not a single shot at the sentinels. The only sounds they heard were the lonesome howls of coyotes far out on the plain. Phil, Breakstone, and Arenberg were in the first watch, and they walked back and forth together in a little segment of the circle about thirty yards from the wagons. They talked more than usual, as they shared in the general belief that there would be no further attack, at least, not yet.

The night, in truth, was in sharp contrast with the one that had preceded it. There was no rain and no wind, the sky was just a peaceful blue, cut by the white belt of the Milky Way, and with the great stars dancing in myriad pools of light. Strife and battle seemed far away and forgotten.

"It will take us a long time to reach General Taylor on the Rio Grande or beyond, where he iss likely to be," said Arenberg.

"A couple of months, maybe," said Breakstone.

"And then," continued Arenberg, "we do not know how long we will have to stay there. We do not know what great battles we will have to fight, and if we live through it all it may be a year, two years, until we can come back into the North."

"Not so long as that, I think," replied Breakstone.

Phil noticed Arenberg's melancholy tone, and once more he wondered what this man's quest might be. Evidently it did not lie to the south, for to him alone the turning from the old course had caused pain. He could not keep from showing sympathy.

"I feel that all of us will come back sooner or later, Mr. Arenberg," he said, "and we will go on in the way we chose first, and to success."

The German put his hand affectionately on the boy's shoulder.

"There are no prophets in these days," he said, "but now and then there iss a prophecy that comes true, and it may be that our G.o.d puts it in the mouth of a boy like you, instead of that of an older man. You strengthen my weak faith, Philip."

His tone was so solemn and heartfelt that the other two were silent.

Surely the motive that drew Arenberg into the wilderness was a most powerful one! They could not doubt it. They walked without saying more until it was twelve when Bill Breakstone dropped his rifle from his shoulder with a great sigh of relief.

"It's just occurred to me that I haven't slept a wink for thirty-six hours," he said, "and I'm going to make up for lost time as soon as I can."

"Me, too," said Phil.

"Much sleep iss meant by me, also," said Arenberg.

Phil concluded to sleep in a wagon that night, and, in order to enjoy the full luxury of rest, he undressed for the first time in several days. Then he found a soft place in some bags of meal, covered himself with a blanket, and shut his eyes.

He had a wonderful sense of safety and comfort. After so much hardship and danger, this was like a king's bed, and the royal guards were outside to keep away harm. It was extraordinary how some sacks of flour and an army blanket could lull one's senses into golden ease.

He heard a few noises outside, a sentinel exchanging a word with another, the stamp of a restless horse's hoof, and then, for the last time, the long, lonesome howl of the coyote. A minute after that he was asleep. When he awoke the next day he felt that he was moving. He heard the cracking of whips and the sound of many voices. He sprang up, lifted the edge of the wagon cover, and looked out. There was the whole train, moving along at its steady, even pace, and a yellow sun, at least four hours high, was sailing peacefully in blue heavens. Phil, ashamed of himself, hurried on his clothes and sprang out of his wagon at the rear. The first man he saw was Bill Breakstone, who was walking instead of riding.

"Bill," he exclaimed indignantly, "here I've been sleeping all the morning, while the rest of you fellows have been up and doing!"