"I don't believe the Captain is killed," spoke up Phil promptly. "I don't believe that he's the kind of man who would be killed. But a lot of things must have happened since we left. There must have been some big fighting away down there by the City of Mexico. Do you think we could have been whipped, Bill?"

"Phil, I've half a mind to take away all your t.i.tles without another word," replied Breakstone reprovingly. "How could you think of our being whipped, after what you saw at Buena Vista?"

"That's so," said Phil, his cheerfulness coming back at once.

Late in the spring they began the pa.s.sage of the ranges, and although it was a long, hard, and sometimes dangerous task, they got safely across with all their horses, coming again into a plains country, which merged farther west into a desert. Here they were about to make a great loop northward, around the Mexican settlements, when they met an American soldier carrying dispatches. They hailed him, and, when he stopped, they rode forward, all eagerness. It was deputed to Bill Breakstone to ask the momentous question, and he asked it:

"How is the war going on?"

The soldier looked at them, amused little crinkles at the corners of his mouth. He knew by their appearance that these were people who had been long in the wilderness.

"It isn't getting on at all," he replied.

"What!" cried Bill Breakstone appalled.

"It isn't going on, because it's all over. General Scott marched straight to the City of Mexico. He fought a half dozen terrible battles, but he won every one of them, and then took the City of Mexico itself. A treaty of peace was signed February 2 last. You are riding now on American soil. New Mexico, Arizona, California, and vast regions to the north of us have been ceded to the United States."

"Hurrah!" they cried together, Billy joining in with as much enthusiasm as the others.

"What about Santa Fe?" asked Bill Breakstone.

"It's occupied by an American garrison, and there is complete peace everywhere. The only danger is from wandering Indians."

"We know how to fight them," said Bill Breakstone. "Boys, we ride for Santa Fe."

The soldier continued northward, and they turned the heads of their horses toward the New Mexico capital, reaching, in good time and without loss, the queer little old Spanish and Indian town from which the flags of Spain and then of Mexico had disappeared forever. They intended to remain only two or three days in order to obtain more horses and fresh supplies. Then they would slip quietly out of the town, because they wished their errand to be known to n.o.body. On the second day Bill Breakstone and Phil were walking together, when a man in sober civilian dress suddenly seized a hand of each in a firm grasp, and exclaimed in joy:

"Why, boys, when did you come here?"

"The Captain!" exclaimed Bill Breakstone. "How things do come around!"

It was Middleton, his very self, thinner and browner, but with the same fine open countenance and alert look. Bill and his comrade explained rapidly about the rescue of John Bedford, the recovery of little Billy Arenberg, and their pa.s.sage through the mountains.

"And now," said Breakstone, "you tell us, Captain, how you happen to be up here in Santa Fe in civilian dress."

Middleton smiled a little sadly as he replied:

"The war is over. We won many brilliant victories. We were never beaten once. And I'm glad it's over, but there is nothing left for the majority of the younger officers. I should probably remain a captain all the rest of my life at some obscure frontier station, and so I've resigned from the army."

A light leaped up in Bill Breakstone's eyes, but he asked very quietly:

"And what are you meaning to do now, Captain?"

"I don't know, but I've been hearing talk about gold in California, and perhaps I'll go there to hunt it."

"Of course you will!" exclaimed Bill Breakstone, letting himself go.

"You're going to start to-morrow, and you're going with us. I know right where that gold is, and I'm going to lead you and the rest of the boys to it. You remember that every one of us had a quest that drew us into the West. The secret of the gold is mine. We need you and we share alike. As I've told the others, there's enough for all."

Middleton was easily persuaded, and they left Santa Fe the next morning before daylight, taking little Billy Arenberg with them. They traveled a long time toward the northwest, crossing mountains and deserts, until they reached the mighty range of the Sierra Nevada. This, too, they crossed without accident or loss, and then Bill Breakstone led them straight to the dead river and up its channel to the hidden gold. Here he dug in the bank and showed them the result.

"Am I right or am I wrong?" he asked exultantly.

"Right!" they replied with one voice.

At first they washed out the gold, but afterward they used both the cradle and the sluice methods. The deposits were uncommonly rich, and they worked there all through the summer and winter. The next spring, Middleton and Arenberg carried a great treasure of gold on horses to San Francisco. They also took Billy Arenberg with them, but on their way back they left him, to his huge regret, at a good school in Sacramento, while they rejoined their comrades on the great Breakstone claim. They exhausted it in another year, but they were all now as rich as they wished to be, and they descended into the beautiful valley of California, where they expected to make their homes.

THE END