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  CHAPTER XI

  WITH THE ARMY

  The crossing of the Rio Grande was a formidable task, and the traincould never have accomplished it in the face of a foe, even small innumbers, but no Mexicans were present, and they went about their taskunhindered. One of the streams was too deep to be forded, but they cutdown the larger trees and constructed a strong raft, which they managedto steer over with long poles. The reluctant horses and mules wereforced upon it, and thus the train was carried in safety over the deepwater. Nor was the task then ended. It usually took six horses and tenor twelve men to drag a wagon through the sand and carry it up the bankto the solid earth beyond, the way having been carefully examined inadvance in order to avoid quicksand.

  It took three days to build the raft and complete the passage. Phil hadnever worked so hard in his life before. He pushed at wagon wheels andpulled at the bridles of mules and horses until every bone in him ached,and he felt as if he never could get his strength again. But the trainwas safely across, without the loss of a weapon or an animal. They werein Mexico, and they did not deceive themselves about the greatness anddanger of the task that lay before them. Phil felt the curious effectwhich the passage over the border from one country to another usuallyhas on people, especially the young. It seemed to him that in passingthat strip of muddy river he had come upon a new soil, and into a newclimate--into a new world, in fact. Yet the Texas shore, in reality,looked exactly like the Mexican, and was like it.

  "Well, Phil," said Bill Breakstone, "here we are in Mexico. I'm coveredwith mud, so are you, and so is Arenberg. I think it's Texas and Mexicomud mixed, so suppose we go down, find a clear place in the water, andget rid of it."

  They found a cool little pool, an eddy or backwater, where the waterstanding over white sand was fairly clear, and the three, stripping,sprang in. The water was deep, and Bill plunged and dived andspluttered with great delight. Phil and Arenberg were not so noisy, butthey found the bath an equal pleasure. It was an overwhelming luxury toget the sand out of their eyes and ears and hair, and to feel the coolwater on bodies hot with the ache and grime of three days' hard work.

  "You'd better make the best of it, Phil," said Breakstone. "The part ofMexico that we are going into isn't very strong on water, and maybe youwon't get another bath for a year."

  "I'm doing it," said the boy.

  "And don't you mind the fact," said Bill Breakstone, "that thealligators of the Rio Grande, famous for their size and appetite, liketo lie around in lovely cool pools like this and bite the bare legs ofcareless boys who come down to bathe."

  Phil felt something grasp his right leg and pull hard. He uttered ayell, and then, putting his hand on Breakstone's brown head, which wasrising to the surface, convulsively thrust him back under. ButBreakstone came up three yards away, pushed the hair out of his eyes,and laughed.

  "I'm the only alligator that's in the stream," he said, "but I did giveyou a scare for a moment. You are bound to admit that, Sir Philip, Dukeof Texas and Prince of Mexico."

  "I admit it readily," replied Phil, and, noticing that Breakstone wasnow looking the other way, he dived quietly and ran his finger nailssharply along his comrade's bare calf. Breakstone leaped almost whollyout of the water and cried:

  "Great Heavens, a shark is eating me up!"

  Phil came up and said quietly:

  "There are no sharks in the Rio Grande, Mr. William Breakstone. Younever find sharks up a river hundreds of miles from the ocean. Now, Idid give you a scare for a moment, you will admit that, will you not,Sir William of the Shout, the Shark, and the Fright?"

  "I admit it, of course, and now we are even," said Breakstone. "Give meyour hand on it."

  Phil promptly reached out his hand, and Breakstone, seizing it, draggedhim under. But Phil, although surprised, pulled down on Breakstone'shand with all his might, and Breakstone went under with him. Both cameup spluttering, laughing, and enjoying themselves hugely, while Arenbergswam calmly to a safe distance.

  "You are a big boy, Herr Bill Breakstone," he said. "You will never growup."

  "I don't want to," replied Bill Breakstone calmly. "When it makes mehappy all through and through just to be swimming around in a pool ofnice cool water, what's the use of growing up? Answer me that, HansArenberg."

  "I can't," replied the German. "It isn't in me to give an answer tosuch a question."

  "I suppose we've got to go out at last, dress again, and go back towork," said Breakstone lugubriously. "It's a hard world for us men,Phil."

  "One iss not a fish, and, being not a fish," said Arenberg, "one must goout on dry land some time or other to rest, and the some time has nowcome."

  They swam to land, but Bill Breakstone began to plead.

  "Let's lie here on the sand and luxuriate for a space, Sir Philip of theRio Grande and Count Hans of the Llano Estacado, which is Spanish forthe Staked Plain, which I have seen more than once," said BillBreakstone. "The sand is white, it is clean, and it has been waiting along time for us to lie upon it, close our eyes, and forget everythingexcept that we are happy."

  "It iss a good idea," said Arenberg. "There are times when it iss wellto be lazy, only most men think it iss all the time."

  They stretched themselves out on the white sand and let the warm sunplay upon them, permeating their bodies and soothing and relaxing everymuscle. Phil had not felt so peaceful in a long time. It had relievedhim to tell the secret of his quest to Breakstone, who, with hispermission, had told it in turn to Middleton and Arenberg, and now thathe was really in Mexico with strong friends around him he felt that thefirst great step had been accomplished. The warm sun felt exceedinglygood, his eyes were closed, and a pleasant darkness veiled them, a faintmurmur, the flowing of the river, came to his ears, and he floated awaywith the current.

  "Here! here! Sir Philip of the Sleepy Head, wake up. It isn't yourfirst duty to go to sleep when you arrive in Mexico! Besides, it's timewe were back at the camp, or they'll think Santa Anna has got usalready! Also, you need more clothes than you've got on just now!"

  Phil sprang up embarrassed, but he saw Arenberg looking sheepish, also.

  "You had good company, Sir Philip of the Sleepy Head," exclaimedBreakstone joyously. "Count Hans, of the Snore was traveling with youinto that unknown land to which millions have gone and returned, and ofwhich not one can tell anything."

  "It iss so," said Arenberg. "I confess my weakness."

  They dressed rapidly, and, refreshed and young again, ran back to thetrain. The twilight was now coming, and the wagons were drawn up in theusual circular formation, with the animals in the middle, and, outsidethe circle, were burning several fires of dry cactus and cottonwood,around which men were cooking.

  "Just in time for supper," said Bill Breakstone. "I was a great roverwhen I was a boy, but my mother said I took care never to get out ofsound of the dinner-bell. It may be funny, but my appetite is just asgood in Mexico as it was in Texas."

  They ate strips of bacon, venison, and jerked buffalo, with a greatappetite. They drank coffee and felt themselves becoming giants instrength. The twilight passed, and a brilliant moon came out, floodingthe plain with silvery light. Then they saw a horseman coming towardthem, riding directly through the silver flood, black, gigantic, andsinister.

  "Now what under the sun can that be?" exclaimed Bill Breakstone.

  "You should say what under the moon. It iss more correct," saidArenberg. "I can tell you, also, that it iss a white man, although thefigure looks black here--I know by the shape. It iss also an Americanofficer in uniform. I know it because I saw just then a gleam ofmoonlight on his epaulets. He iss coming to inspect us."

  The approach of the stranger aroused, of course, the deepest curiosityin everybody, and in a few moments a crowd gathered to gaze at this manwho came on with such steadiness and assurance. His figure, stillmagnified by the moon, out of which he seemed to be riding, showed nowin per
fect outline. He carried no rifle, but they could see the hilt ofa sword on his thigh. He wore a military cap, and the least experiencedcould no longer doubt that he was an army officer.

  "He knows that we are friends," said Middleton, "or he would not come onso boldly. Unless I mistake much, he sits his horse like a regularofficer of the United States cavalry. That seat was learned only atWest Point."

  The stranger rode out of the magnifying rays. His horse and himselfshrank to their real size. He came straight to the group, leaped to theground, and, holding the bridle in one hand, lifted his cap with theother in salute. Middleton sprang forward.

  "Edgeworth," he exclaimed, "when you came near I thought it was you, butI scarcely dared to hope."

  The officer, tall and striking of appearance, with penetrating grayeyes, seized Middleton's hand.

  "And it is you, Middleton," he said. "What a meeting for two who havenot seen each other since they were at West Point together."

  "But it's where we both want to be," said Middleton.

  "That is so," said Edgeworth with emphasis, "but I had heard, George,that you were sent on an errand of uncommon danger, and I had feared--Iwill not hesitate to say it to you now--that you would never come back."

  Middleton laughed. He was obviously delighted with this meeting of thecomrade of his cadetship. Then he introduced Woodfall and the others,after which he asked:

  "How did you know we were friends, Tom? You came on as if you wereriding to a garden-party."

  "A scout brought news of you," he replied. "We have a small force abouttwenty miles ahead, and I rode back to meet you, and see what was here."

  "We have some good men," said Woodfall, "and they are willing to fight.We've come a good many hundreds of miles for that purpose."

  "I believe you," said Edgeworth, running his trained eyes over thecrowd. "A finer body of men I never saw, and we need you, every one ofyou."

  "What news?" asked Middleton eagerly.

  "Much of it, and all bad. Our government has mixed the situation badly.We've been steadily strengthening Scott, and, in the same proportion,we've been weakening Taylor. There are rumors, I don't know howauthentic--perhaps you have heard them--that Santa Anna is coming northwith a great force to destroy us. Taylor is expected to retreatrapidly, but he hasn't done it. You know old Rough and Ready, George."

  "I hope to Heaven he won't retreat!" exclaimed Middleton.

  "He hasn't. So far he has advanced," said Edgeworth. "But I ride backwith you in the morning, boys, and I think great things are going tohappen before long. Besides the men with you, Middleton, we've use foreverything you've got in the wagons. You won't suffer, Mr. Woodfall."

  The train moved the next morning an hour earlier than usual. Wheelswere turning before daylight. Hearts were beating high, and they pushedon at great speed now, for wagons, until past sunset. In the middle ofthe day it was hot, in the evening chill winds blew down from the crestsof distant mountains, but at all times, morning, noon, and evening, theymarched in a cloud of dust, much of it impregnated with alkali. Itannoyed Phil and his comrades terribly, sifting into nose, mouth, ears,and eyes, putting a bitter taste on the palate, and making them long forthe sweet waters of the pool in which they had bathed so luxuriously.

  The next day was the same; more dust, more alkali, and the deadlymonotony of a treeless and sandy plain. But that night it was extremelycold. They were approaching the mountains, the spurs of the SierraMadre, and the winds were sharp with the touch of ice and snow. Winter,also, had come, and in the night ice formed in the infrequent rivuletson the plain. Now and then they passed little Mexican villages, mostlyof the adobe huts, with dirt and children strewed about in greatquantities. The children were friendly enough, but the women scowled,and the men were away. Phil did not find the villages picturesque orattractive in any sense, and he was disappointed.

  "I hope this isn't the best Mexico has to show," he said.

  "It isn't very inviting," said Bill Breakstone, "you wouldn't lookaround here for a Forest of Arden or a Vale of Vallombrosa, but this isonly the introduction to Mexico. Monterey, which General Taylor took,is a fine city, and so are others farther down. I've seen a lot of themmyself. Don't you worry, Phil, you'll find enough to interest youbefore you get through."

  They also picked up some wandering scouts and hunters, who joined themin their march. Several of these brought news. Taylor was at Saltillo,and his force was small. The Mexicans were raiding to the veryoutskirts of the city, and they looked upon Taylor's army as alreadydestroyed. The American force of about four thousand five hundred mencontained less than five hundred regular troops. The others, althoughgood material, were raw volunteers, very few of whom had been underfire.

  Phil saw Middleton and Edgeworth talking together very anxiously, and heknew that they were full of apprehensions. It seemed as if Fate itselfwere playing into the hands of Santa Anna. Occasionally they saw bandsof Mexican guerillas hovering on the horizon, but they did not botherwith them, keeping straight on for Taylor and Saltillo. The cold stillincreased, both day and night, and the winds that came from the peaks ofthe Sierra Madre, now plainly in view, cut to the bone. Phil was gladto take to the wagons for sleep, and to wrap himself in double blankets.It was now well into December, but in two more days they expected toreach Taylor at Saltillo.

  The last day of the march came, and every heart in the train beat highwith expectancy. Even the army officers, Middleton and Edgeworth,trained to suppression of their emotions, could not restrain theireagerness, and they, with Woodfall and others, rode on ahead of thetrain. Phil, Bill Breakstone, and Arenberg were in this little group,but the three were at the rear.

  "Phil, you were right when you called it a strange looking land," saidBill Breakstone, "and I'm of the opinion that we're going to see strangethings in it. Our military friends look none too happy, and as I'veeyes and ears of my own I know we're likely to have lively times afterChristmas. Did you know that Christmas was not far away, Phil?"

  "No, I had forgotten all about it," replied Phil, "but, since youmention it, I remember that it is December. Ah, what is that shining inthe sun straight ahead of us, Bill?"

  He pointed with his finger and showed the faintest red tint under thehorizon.

  "That," replied Breakstone, "is a red tile roof on a house in Saltillo,and you're the first to see the town. Good eye, my boy. Now, the othershave seen it, also! Look how they quicken the steps of their horses!"

  They broke into a gallop as they came into a shallow, pleasant valley,with green grass, the Northern palms, clear, flowing water, and many aneat stone house with its piazzas and patios. The domes of several finechurches rose into view, and then men in uniforms, rifle in hand, stoodacross the road. Phil knew their faces; these men were never bred inMexico. Brown they were with the wind and sun of many days, but thefeatures beneath the brown were those of the Anglo-Saxons, the Americansof the North, his own people.

  "Halt!" came the sharp order from the commander of the patrol.

  Middleton replied for them all, but, as Phil rode past, he leaned overand said to the bronzed leader of the patrol:

  "I'm here, Jim Harrington. I told you in Paris that I was coming toMexico. It's a long road, and you're ahead of me, but I'm here."

  The leader, a thick-set, powerful man of fifty-five, looked up inamazement. At first he had not recognized Phil under his tan and layerof dust, but now he knew his voice.

  "Phil Bedford, by all that's wonderful!" he exclaimed. "I didn't thinkthat you and I would ever meet in Mexico, but when the call came Icouldn't keep away!"

  Then he lowered his tone and asked:

  "Any news of John?"

  Phil shook his head sadly.

  "Not a thing," he replied, "but I'm going to find him!"

  "I believe you will," said Harrington, "but your search is going to bedelayed, Phil. You'll have to wait for something else that none of uswill ever forget. But, Phil, you've landed among friends.
Lots of theboys that you used to know in Paris and around there are here."

  As Phil rode on, the truth of Harrington's words was confirmed. Tan anddust did not keep strong, hearty voices from hailing him.

  "Hey, you, Phil Bedford, where did you come from?"

  "Is that old Phil Bedford? Did he drop from the clouds?"

  "Here, Phil, shake hands with an old friend!"

  He saw more than a score of familiar faces. A number of these soldierswere almost as young as himself, and two or three of them were relatedto him by blood. He had a great sensation of home, an overpoweringfeeling of delight. Despite strangeness and distance, old friends andkindred were around him. But old friends did not make him forget hisnew friends, or think any less of them. He introduced Middleton, BillBreakstone, and Arenberg. Middleton was compelled to hurry to GeneralTaylor with his report, but the other two remained and affiliatedthoroughly.

  "You camp with us," said Dick Grayson, a distant cousin of Phil's."We've got a fine place over here, just back of the plaza. Lots ofKentuckians here, Phil--in fact, more from our state than any other.The rest are mostly from Illinois, Indiana, Arkansas, Mississippi, andLouisiana. We haven't got many regulars, but we've got mighty goodartillery, and we're ready to give a good account of ourselves againstanybody. You ought to see old Rough and Ready. He's as grim as youplease. Just as soon bite a ten-penny nail in two as not. Mad cleanthrough, and I don't blame him, because he's been robbed to strengthenScott."

  Phil and his comrades went readily with Grayson. The wagon train wasalready scattering through the encampment, the volunteers taking theirplaces here and there, while Woodfall and his associates were arrangingfor the sale of their available supplies. Phil, Breakstone, andArenberg owned their horses, and, leading them with the bridles overtheir arms, they walked along with their new friends. Phil noticed thatthe town was well built in the Mexican style, with many handsome housesand signs of prosperity. The American invaders had harmed nothing, buttheir encampment was spread throughout the city.

  The group walked by a green little park in which a small fountain wasplaying. A young Mexican in sombrero, gaudy jacket and trousers sat ona stone bench and idly thrummed a guitar. Several thick-set Mexicanwomen, balancing on their heads heavy jars of water, passed placidly by.A small train of burros loaded with wool walked down another street.There was nothing save the presence of the soldiers to tell of war. Itall looked like play. Phil spoke of the peaceful appearance ofeverything to Dick Grayson. Grayson shrugged his shoulders.

  "You cannot tell a thing by its looks in this country," he said."Mexicans seem nearly always to be asleep, but, as a rule, they are not.You don't see many men about, and it means that they are off with theguerillas, or that they've gone south to join Santa Anna. We haven'tdone any harm here. We've treated the people in Saltillo a good dealbetter than their own rulers often treat them, and we're friendly withthe inhabitants, but Mexicans are bound to stand with Mexicans, just asAmericans stand with Americans. It's natural, and I don't blame 'em forit."

  "I'd wager that many a message is carried off to the enemy by thesestolid looking women," said Bill Breakstone.

  Yet the town itself showed little hostility. Nevertheless, Phil couldnot keep from feeling that it was thoroughly the enemy of the invader,as was natural. As Bill Breakstone truly said, information concerningthe Americans was certainly sent to the Mexican leaders. Everything thatthe Americans might do in the town would quickly become known to theenemy, while a veil always hung before the Mexican troops andpreparations. Nevertheless, the life of the city, save for thereduction in the number of its adult inhabitants, went on as usual.

  Some of the officers occupied houses, but all the men and youngerofficers were in tents, either in the open places of the town or on theoutskirts. Phil, Arenberg, and Breakstone spent that night with DickGrayson and others in a little park, where about twenty tents stood.These were to be their regular quarters for the present, and, asMiddleton had foreseen, the reinforcement was welcomed eagerly. Theyate an abundant supper, and, the night being cold, afire was builtwithin the ring of the tents. Here they sat and talked. Besides DickGrayson, there were "Tobe" Wentworth, Elijah Jones, Sam Parsons, andother old friends of Phil.

  As they sat before the cheerful blaze and put their blankets over theirbacks to shield themselves from the bitter mountain winds, theydiscussed the war and, after the manner of young troopers, settled it,every one in his own way and to his own perfect satisfaction. "Tobe"Wentworth was not an educated youth, but he was a great talker.

  "I could a-planned this war," he said, "an' carried it right out withouta break to a finish."

  "Why didn't you do it, then?" asked Dick Grayson.

  "I did think o' writin' to Washin'ton once," said Tobe calmly, "an'tellin' them how it ought to be done, but I reckoned them old fellowswould be mighty set in their ways an' wouldn't take it right. Old mendon't like to be told by us youngsters that they don't know much."

  "I've got a plan, too," said an Indiana youth named Forsythe.

  "What is it?" asked Wentworth scornfully.

  "It's a secret. I ain't ever goin' to tell it to anybody," saidForsythe. "I've drawed up my will, an' I've provided that when I dieit's to be buried with me, still unread, folded right over my heart."

  All laughed, but "Tobe" rejoined:

  "Sech modesty is becomin' in Hoosiers, all the more so because it's thefirst time I ever knowed one of them to display it."

  "Did you ever hear about that gentleman from Injiany that went out inthe Kentucky Mountains once, drivin' a fine buggy?" asked Forsythe. "Henoticed some big boys runnin' along behind him. He didn't think much ofit at first, but they kept right behind him mile after mile, but sayin'nothin' an' offerin' no harm. At last his curiosity got the better ofhim, an' he leaned back and asked: 'Boys, why are you followin' me thisway?' Then the biggest of them boys, a long, lean fellow, bare-footedand with only one suspender, up and answers: 'Why, stranger, we reckonedwe'd run behind an' see how long it would take for your hind wheels toketch up with your front wheels.'"

  "Tobe" Wentworth sat calm and unsmiling until the laughter died. Thenhe said:

  "Any of you fellers know how the people of Injiany got the name ofHoosiers? No? Well, I'll tell you. It's so wild and rough over there,an' them people are so teetotally ignorant an' so full of curiositythat, whenever a gentleman from Kentucky crosses the Ohio and goes alongone of their rough roads, up they pop everywhere, and call out to him:'Who's yer?' meaning 'Who are you?' and that started the word Hoosier,which all over the world to-day means the people from Injiany."

  When the second laugh died, Bill Breakstone rubbed his hands together.

  "I see that I've fallen upon a merry crowd," he said, "and it is well.The spirit of youth is always delightful, and it leads to the doing ofgreat things."

  "You talk like an actor," said Dick Grayson, not as a criticism, but intones of admiration.

  "I talk like an actor," replied Bill Breakstone with majesty, "because Iam one."

  "You don't say so! You don't mean it!" exclaimed a dozen voices atonce.

  "I am, or, rather, was," replied Bill with dignity, "although I willadmit that I am now engaged in other pursuits."

  Most of them still looked at him doubtfully, and Bill, his honor atstake, became the subject of a sudden inspiration.

  "I see that some of you suspect my veracity, which is natural under thecircumstances," he said. "Now, I said I was an actor, and I'll provethat I'm an actor by acting."

  "You don't mean it!" they cried again.

  "I will," said Bill Breakstone firmly. "Moreover, I will act from aplay by the greatest of all writers. Throw the wood together there andlet the blaze spring up. I want you to see me."

  A dozen willing hands tossed together the logs which sent up a swift,high flame. The whole circle was lighted brightly, and Bill Breakstonestood up. Phil had never taken seriously his assertion that he had beenan actor, but now he suddenl
y changed his opinion. He stood for a fewmoments in the full blaze of the light, a tall, slender figure, his facelean and shaven smoothly. His expression changed absolutely. He seemedwholly unconscious of the young soldiers about him, of the palms, or ofthe stone or adobe houses of the town.

  Then, in a tone of martial fervor he began to recite scraps fromShakespeare dealing with war and battle, Macbeth's defiance to Macduff,Richard on the battlefield, and other of the old familiar passages. Butthey were new to most of those about him, and Breakstone himself, as heafterward said, was stirred that night by an uncommon fire and spirit.Something greater than he, perhaps the effect of time and place, seemedto have laid hold of him. The fire and spirit were communicated to hisaudience, which rapidly increased in numbers, although he did not seeit, so deeply was he filled with his own words, carrying him far backinto other lands among the scenes that he described. The applause roseagain and again, and always he was urged to go on. As he recited forthe sixth time, a thick-set, strong figure appeared at the edge of thethrong, and men at once made way for it. The figure was that of a manwith gray hair, and with a deep line down either cheek. Breakstone'spassing glance caught the face and divined in an instant his identity.The applause, the demand for more, rose again, and after a littlehesitation the actor began:

  "'My people are with sickness much encumbered My numbers lessened, and these few I have, Almost no better than so many French; Who, when they were in health, I tell the herald, I thought upon one pair of English legs Did walk three Frenchmen, yet Forgive me, God, That I do brag thus. This poor air of France Hath blown that voice in me. I must repent, Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am; My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk, My army but a weak and sickly guard--'"

  He paused a moment, but the man with the gray hair and lined cheeksstill stood in an attitude of deep attention, and, skipping some of thelines, he continued:

  "'If we may pass we will; if we be hindered We shall your tawny ground with your red blood Discolor; and so, Montjoy, fare you well, The sum of all our answer is but this: We would not seek a battle as we are; Nor as we are, we say we will not shun it, So tell your master.'"

  He sat down amid roars of applause and universal approval. Did they notknow? Mexicans were boasting already that Taylor would have tosurrender to Santa Anna without a battle. Bill Breakstone stole aglance toward the place where the gray-haired man had stood, but he wasgone now.

  "Did you know that old Rough and Ready himself was listening to youthere toward the last?" asked Grayson.

  "Is that so?" replied Breakstone. "Well, I'm not ashamed of anythingthat I said, and now, if I've entertained you boys a little, I'd like torest awhile. You don't know how hard that kind of work is, whether yourwork be good or bad."

  Rest he certainly should have. They had found too great a treasure,these fighting men in a far land, to let him be spoiled by overwork, andthey brought him an abundance of refreshment, also.

  Breakstone drank a cup of light wine made in Saltillo, as he lay backluxuriously on a pallet in one of the tents. He felt that he had reasonto be satisfied with himself, and perhaps, he, playing the actor, hadseized an opportunity, and had made it do what might be an importantservice in a great campaign.

  "What was the last piece that you recited?" asked Grayson. "Somehow itseemed to fit in with our own situation here."

  "That," replied Breakstone, "was a speech from King Henry V. He is inFrance with a small army, and the French have sent to him to demand hissurrender. He makes the reply that I have just quoted to you."

  There was a thoughtful silence, although they had known his meaningalready, and presently Phil and his comrades, making themselvescomfortable in their tents, went to sleep. They were formally enrolledamong the Kentucky volunteers the next day, and began their duties,which consisted chiefly of patrolling. Phil was among the sentinelsstationed the next night on the outskirts of the city.