CHAPTER IX
THE FIERY CIRCLE
The thin gray light in the east broadened into a bar as the hoofbeats ofthe four thundered over the plain. From left to right came shouts, theyells 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 horsemen almost clove themorning mist, and rode on swift hoofs straight toward the wagon train.Then came the rattling of rifles and whistling of arrows from eitherside. "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, tobe hit by a bullet instead of an arrow; an arrow sticking in one's fleshwould be very cumbersome and painful. But neither arrow nor bulletstruck true. Their ride was too sudden and swift, and the light toofaint to permit good aim to the Mexicans and Comanches. Yet Phil heardconfused sounds, shouted commands, and the noise of hurrying feet. Hesaw dark faces appearing in the mist on either side, and he also saw theoutlines 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 thewagons. Two of the men raised their rifles and took aim at thegalloping horsemen.
"We are friends, and we bring you warning!" shouted Middleton in atremendous 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 theyfired not at his comrades and himself but at those who pursued. Adeath-cry and yells of rage came from behind them, but in another minutethey were within the line of sentinels and were springing from theirhorses, 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 ifa veil had been lifted, and the whole plain stood out clear and distinctunder a brilliant sky. Before them were the wagons, drawn up in acircle in the customary fashion of a camp, the horses and mules in thecenter, and the men, arms in hand, forming an outer ring for the wagons.But from the northeast and the southeast two lines were converging uponthem, and Phil's heart kindled at the sight.
The line in the northeast was made up of red horsemen, four hundredComanches, naked to the waist, horribly painted, and riding knee toknee, the redoubtable chiefs, Santana and Black Panther, at their head.The line in the southeast was composed of Mexican cavalry, lancerssplendidly mounted, the blades of their lances and their embroideredjackets glittering in the sun. They made their horses prance andcavort, 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 yourcomrades, all of them alive and well. But what does this mean? Why dothose 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, warbetween the United States and Mexico--we learned that last night fromone of their own officers--and there have been two heavy battles on theRio Grande, both victorious for us."
It was not strange that a sudden cheer burst from the men who heardthese words. Woodfall listened to it grimly, and, when it died, hesaid:
"Then if these Mexicans attack, we'll soon have a third victory to ourcredit. The Indian bow and the Mexican lance can't break through acircle of riflemen, entrenched behind wagons--riflemen who know how toshoot."
Again that defiant, even exultant cheer rose from the men who heard,and, passing on like a fire in dry grass, it rolled all around thecircle of wagons. The Mexicans heard it. They detected the defiantnote in it, and, wisely, they checked their speed. The column of Indianwarriors also came more slowly. Philip Bedford, hardened in so brief aspace to danger and war, did not feel any great fear, but the scenethrilled him like a great picture painted in living types and colorsagainst the background of the earth. There were the red horsemen, thesun deepening the tints of their coppery faces and bringing out theglowing colors of their war bonnets. To the southeast the Mexicancolumn, also, was a great ribbon of light lying across the plain, thebroad blades of the lances catching the sun's rays and throwing themback in golden beams.
"A fine show," said Woodfall, "and if those Mexicans had two or threecannon 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 acaptain in the regular army, Captain Middleton, and that I've beenmaking use of your hospitality to find what forces the enemy had inthese parts, and what movements he was making. I was sent by ourgovernment, and, as you see, I'm finding what I was sent to find."
"I thought there was something military about your cut, Captain," saidWoodfall, "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 usnow."
The hands of the two men met in the strong clasp of friendship andtrust.
"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 leasttwo-thirds of our men devote their attention to the lancers. TheMexicans are brave; we must not forget that."
They went inside at once, where a few men were detailed to see that thehorses and mules did not make too great a turmoil, while the rest postedthemselves for defense. The wagons were in reality a formidable barrierfor an attacking force that did not have artillery. The majority of theAmericans lay down under the wagons between the wheels. Phil was underone of them with Bill Breakstone on one side of him and Arenberg on theother. 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, andto remember, when you take aim, to allow for the fact that they arecoming 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 neverthought 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 turnedhis gaze from Arenberg and fixed it upon the Mexican column which theywere facing. He thought that he saw de Armijo in the front rank amongthe officers in brilliant dress, but he was not sure. The distance wastoo great. He wondered whether he would shoot at him, if he saw himlater in the charge.
The sunlight was intensely bright, such as one sees only on great uplandplains, and the Mexican lancers with their horses stood out, likecarving, against the background of gold and blue. Phil saw the columnsuddenly quiver, as if a single movement ran through all. The lanceswere lifted a little higher, and their blades cast broader beams. Aflag fluttered in the front rank and unfolded in the slight wind.
The notes of a trumpet sounded high and clear, the Mexicans uttered along, fierce shout, the colors shifted and changed, like water flowingswiftly, as the column broke into a gallop and came straight toward thewagons, the plain thundering with the beat of their hoofs. From anotherpart of the compass came a second cry, higher pitched, longer drawn, andwith more of the whine of the wolf in it. Phil knew that it came fromthe 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 thedefenders of the wagons had not yet pulled a trigger, although many aforefinger was trembling with eagerness.
"It's pretty, but it's a waste, a dead waste," said Bill Breakstone. "Ihate to shoot at them, because I've no doubt many a brave young fellowis 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 whouttered it, and everybody obeyed. A sheet of flame seemed to spurt fromthe wagons, and the air was filled with singing lead. The entire headof the Mexican column was burnt away. The ground was strewn with thefallen. 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 deArmijo among them--were trying to urge the lancers on. All theAmericans were reloading as fast as they could, and while the Mexicansyet wavered, they poured in a second volley. Unable to withstand it,the lancers broke and fled, bearing the officers away with them in theirpanic.
Phil, Bill Breakstone, and Arenberg crawled from under the wagon andstood on the outside, erect again. There they contemplated for a fewmoments the wreck that they and their comrades had made. From theIndian point of attack came the sound of retiring shots, and they knewthat the Comanches had been quickly repulsed, also.
"It was one of the most foolish things I ever saw," said BillBreakstone, "to ride right into the mouths of long-barreled, well-aimedrifles like ours. Their numbers didn't help them. What say you, SirPhilip of the Rifle and the Wagon?"
"It seems to me that you're right," replied the boy. "I don't thinkthey'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 andremained in a dark cloud beyond rifle shot, apparently intending neitherto charge again nor to go away. But the defenders of the train werecheerful. They had suffered no loss, being protected so well, and theywere willing enough to meet a second attack delivered in the samefashion. But Middleton and Woodfall had hot coffee and tea served, andthen with strong field glasses they observed the enemy.
"I believe they are in great doubt," said Middleton. "They may thinkthey can starve us out, but the Mexicans will not want to wait for solong a process; it is likely that they will prefer going southward tojoin their main army."
He said these words aloud, where many could hear, but a little whileafterward he and Woodfall drew to one side and talked a long time in lowtones. Phil could tell by their faces that they were very earnest, andhe felt sure that a proposition would be made before long. He calledBreakstone's attention to them.
"You're right," said Bill, "they'll have something to say soon, and itwill concern all of us. Ah, there comes the Cap--I mean theCaptain--now, and he's going to make a speech."
Middleton sprang upon a wagon tongue, and, standing very quiet, lookedslowly around the circle of defenders, all of whom bent their eyes uponhim. They were a motley group, Americans mostly, but with a scatteringof a dozen European nationalities among them. The majority of them werebareheaded, with necks and chests uncovered, and all were stained blackor brown with a mixture of perspiration, dust, and burnt gunpowder. Themajority of them were young, some but little older than Phil himself.They looked very curiously at Middleton as he stood upon the wagon pole.Already all knew that he was an officer in the regular army. In thedistance hung the dark fringe of Mexicans and Comanches, but, for themoment, only the sentinels paid any attention to them.
"Men," cried Middleton, "you have beaten off the attack of the Mexicansand the Comanches, and you can do it again as often as they come! Iknow that, and so do you!"
He was stopped for a few seconds by a great cheer, and then he resumed:
"We can beat them off, but the road to Santa Fe has now becomeimpossible. Moreover, the nation with which we are at war holds SantaFe, and to go there would be merely to march into prison or worse. Wecan't turn back. You are not willing to go back to New Orleans, areyou?"
"Never!" they cried in one voice.
Middleton smiled. He was appealing deftly to the pride of these men,and he had known the response before it came.
"Then if we can neither go on to Santa Fe nor turn back to New Orleans,"he said, "we must either start to the north or to the south."
He was speaking now with the greatest fervor. His face flushed deeply,and they hung upon his words.
"To the north lies the wilderness," he said, "stretching away forthousands of miles to the Arctic Ocean. To the south there are plainsreaching down to a river, broad, shallow, and yellow, and somewherealong that river armies are fighting, armies of our own people andarmies of the Mexicans with whom we are now at war. Which way shall wego, north or south?"
"South!" was roared forth in one tremendous voice. Again Middletonsmiled. Again he had known before it came the response that would bespoken.
"Then south it is," he said, "and we make for Taylor's army on the RioGrande. You will find there a better market for what you carry in yourwagons than you would have found at Santa Fe, and you're likely to findsomething else, also, that I know you won't shirk."
"Fighting!" roared forth that tremendous voice once more.
"Yes, fighting," said Middleton, as he sprang down from the pole andrejoined Woodfall.
"That was clever talk," said Bill Breakstone, "but he knew his groundbefore he sowed the seed. These are just the sort of lads who will beglad to go south to Taylor, breaking their way through any Mexicans orIndians who may get across their path.
"He said north He said south, What's the choice? We spoke forth, It was south, With one voice.
And now, unless I'm mightily mistaken, we'll fare forth upon ourjourney, as the knights of old would say. This is a good camp fordefense, but not for siege. It lacks water. You just watch, Phil, andyou'll see a wrinkle or two in plains work worth knowing."
The men began to hitch the horses to the wagons, but they wereinterrupted in the task by a horseman who rode forth from the Mexicancolumn, carrying a white handkerchief on the point of a lance. He wasjoined by two Indian chiefs riding on either side of him. Philinstantly recognized all three. The white man was Pedro de Armijo, andthe Indians were Black Panther and Santana.
"They want a big talk," said Bill Breakstone. "I fear the Greeksbearing gifts, and also a lot of other people who smile at you whilethey hold daggers behind their backs, but I suppose our side will hearwhat they have to say."
Middleton and Woodfall were already mounting to ride forth, andMiddleton beckoned to Phil.
"Come, Phil," he said. "They are three, and we should be three, also.You can call yourself the secretary of the meeting if you like."
Phil sprang eagerly upon his horse, proud of the privilege and thehonor, and rode forth with them. The Mexican and the two Comanches werecoming on slowly and gravely. Four hundred yards behind them, Mexicansand Indians, all on horseback, were now gathered in a broad dark line,sitting motionless and watching. Their three envoys sat on their horsesmidway between the hostile forces, and the three Americans, meeting themthere, stopped face to face. De Armijo looked at Middleton and smiledslightly, ironically. His bearing was proud, and was evidently meant tobe disdainful. One would have thought that he was a victor, receivingan embassy about to sue for peace. Middleton returned his gazesteadfastly, but his face expressed nothing. He looked once at Phil,and the boy thought he saw something singular in the glance, as if heimpinged somehow upon the mind of the Mexican, but in a moment the lookof de Armijo passed.
"I have come, Captain Middleton," said the young Mexican, "to savebloodshed, if you are willing to listen to reason. You will observewhat forces have come against you. We have here a numerous body ofMexican cavalry, the finest in the world, and we have also the flower ofthe Comanche nation, the bravest of the Indian warriors. In victory,the Mexicans are humane and merciful, but the Indian nature isdifferent. Excited and impassioned, it finds vent in terrible deeds.Therefore, as you are surrounded and cannot escape, we ask you tosurrender now, and save the lives of your men."
It was hard for Phil to restrain an exclamation at this piece ofpresumption, but Middleton received it gravely. His face was stillwithout expression. Nevertheless, his
reply was barbed.
"Your demand seems inopportune, Lieutenant de Armijo," he replied. "Youcan scarcely have forgotten, since it occurred less than an hour ago,the defeat of both your cavalry and your Comanche allies. Perhaps weare unduly confident, but we feel that we can do so again, as often asneeded."
De Armijo frowned. He glanced at his Indian comrades. Phil wondered ifhe had been deceiving them with promises of what the invincible Mexicanlancers could and would do. But the two savages made no response.Their coppery faces did not move.
"Thus, then, is your final answer, Captain Middleton," said de Armijo.
"It is," replied Middleton. "It is not the custom for victors tosurrender. So we bid you good day, Lieutenant de Armijo."
As he spoke, he saluted and turned his horse. Woodfall and Phil salutedand turned with him. The Mexican returned the salute with a glovedhand, but the Indians turned stolidly without a sign. Then the twoparties rode away in opposite directions, each to its own men. Phildismounted at the wagons, and was met by Breakstone and Arenberg witheager questions.
"What did that yellow Mex. want, Sir Philip of the Council?" askedBreakstone.
"As he has just given us such a severe thrashing," replied Phil, "hedemanded our immediate and unconditional surrender. He said that if weacceded to this demand only one-tenth of us would be shot, but he madeit a special condition that a renowned scout, sharpshooter, whitewarrior, and talker, one William Breakstone, be shot first and at once,as a terrible example, in the presence of both victor and vanquished.Immediately after him one Hans Arenberg, a very dangerous andblood-thirsty man, was to share the same fate. If we refused thisgentle alternative, we were all to be killed, and then scalped by thesavages."
"Of course, Sir Philip," said Bill Breakstone, "they've put a just valueon me, but I surmise that the jest doth leap from your nimble tongue.Now the truth!"
"De Armijo and the Indian chiefs did really demand our surrender," saidPhil. "They said we could not escape. They talked as if they were thevictors and we the beaten."
"Now, by my troth, that is a merry jest!" exclaimed Bill Breakstone."When do we lay down our arms? Is it within the next five minutes, ordo we even take fifteen?"
"You can surrender if you want to, Bill," said Phil, "but nobody elsehas any notion of doing so. The rest, I think, are going to marchsouthward at once, Mexicans or no Mexicans, Comanches or no Comanches."
"Well spoken," said Bill Breakstone, "and I will even help in themarch."
A roar that might easily have been called a shout of defiance came fromthe men of the train, when the story of the council was told. Then,with increased zeal, they fell to the work of girding up for the marchand battle. The insolent demand of de Armijo added new fire to theircourage. Cheerful voices arose, the rattle of bridle-bits, theoccasional neigh of a horse, men singing snatches of song, generallylines from sentimental ballads, and the clink of bullets as they werecounted and dropped into their pouches. Some of these sounds were ofwar, but Phil found the whole effect buoyant and encouraging. He caughtthe spirit, and whistled a lilting air as he, too, worked by the side ofBill Breakstone.
The boy soon saw the plan. Gradually the circle of wagons formed itselfinto two parallel lines, the noses of the horses or mules almosttouching the rear of the wagon in front of them. Outside and on eitherside, but close to the wagons, rode the armed horsemen, two formidablelines, who, if hard pressed, could take refuge and shelter between theparallel rows of wagons. Moreover, the wagons handled by such cool andskillful men could be turned in a crisis, and even under fire, into acircle again, with the animals in the center. Phil understood thearrangement thoroughly, admired it tremendously, and was sure that themaster mind of Middleton had directed everything. He glanced at theMexicans and Comanches. They were still hovering in a great dark massabout a thousand yards away, and Phil knew that they were watching everymovement of the Americans with the most intense curiosity.
Middleton and Woodfall rode to the head of the train. The loud command:"March!" was given. Every driver cracked his whip at the same time, thewhole making a report like the sudden crash of many rifles, and thetrain began to move slowly across the plain, every armed man on eitherside holding his finger on the trigger of his rifle.
Phil was just behind Bill Breakstone, and both of them looked back atthe enemy. Phil wondered what the Mexicans and Comanches would do, buthe did not believe they would allow the train to depart unmolested,despite the fact that their face had already been well burned. He sawthe hostile columns advance at about an even pace with the train, but hejudged that there was uncertainty in their ranks. The Americans bore acertain resemblance to a modern armored train, and such men as deArmijo, Black Panther, and Santana were wary, despite their great excessof numbers.
The train moved forward at a slow but steady pace, but now its head wasturned almost due south instead of west. Before them rolled the plainsas usual, green with a grass not yet dried by the summer suns. Here andthere appeared strange flowering shrubs, peculiar to the Texas uplands,but no trees broke the view. The plains rolled away until they diedunder the horizon of reddish gold that seemed an interminable distanceaway. There was little sound now but that of the turning wheels, thecreaking of the axles, and the hoofbeats of many scores of horses andmules. The men were almost completely silent, and this silence, initself, was strange, because the very atmosphere was impregnated withwar. At any moment they might be in deadly conflict; yet they rode on,saying nothing.
Behind them came the Mexicans and Comanches in a double column,preserving the same distance of about a thousand yards, they, too,riding in silence, save for their hoofbeats. The dead evidently hadbeen left as they fell or put in hasty graves, while the wounded werecarried on horses in the rear. Phil looked back again and again at thissingular pursuit, which, for the present, seemed no pursuit at all--atleast, not hostile. It reminded him of the silent but tenacious mannerin which wolves followed a great deer. While fearing his antlers andsharp hoofs, they would hang on and hang on, and in the end would dragdown the quarry. Would that be the fate of the train?
"It's pretty good country for traveling," said Bill Breakstone cheerily,"and I don't see that anything is interrupting us. Except that we passover one swell after another, the road is smooth and easy. What finegrassy plains these are, Phil, and look! yonder are antelopes grazing tothe north of us. They've raised their heads to see, if they can, whatwe are, and what is that crowd behind us. They're just eaten up withcuriosity."
Phil saw the herd of antelope come nearer. They were on a swell, inblack silhouette against a red sun, and they were exaggerated to threeor four times their real size. Phil was something of a philosopher, andhe reflected that they were safe in the presence of so many men, becausethe men were not seeking game, but one another. The train moved on, andthe herd of antelope dropped behind and out of sight. Still there wasno demonstration from the enemy, who yet came on, in two columns, at thesame distance of about a thousand yards, the sunlight gleaming on thelances of both Mexicans and Comanches. It began to seem to Phil as ifthey would always continue thus. Nevertheless, it was hard on thenerves, this incessant watching, as if one were guarding against a beastthat might spring at any moment. Moreover, their force looked so large.But Phil glanced at the long-barreled rifles that the men of the traincarried. They had proved far more than a match for muskets and lances.
"Will they attack us?" he asked Arenberg.
"Much harm iss meant," replied the German, "but they will not seek to doit until they think they see a chance. It iss time only that willtell."
The extraordinary march lasted all day. Neither side committed a singlehostile act, and the silence, so far as the men were concerned, wasunbroken. The distance of about a thousand yards was preserved, but theMexicans and Comanches were still there, and it seemed that they did notintend to be shaken off. About sunset they came to one of the shallowprairie streams, this time a mere brook, but with plenty of water fortheir a
nimals.
"Here we camp," said Bill Breakstone, and almost as he spoke Middletongave the word. One line of wagons went forward, the other stopped, thetwo ends joined, and then they swung around in a circle, with the streamflowing down the center of the enclosure. It was all done with so muchcelerity and so little trouble that the Mexicans and Comanches seemed tobe taken by surprise. A few of them rode nearer, and some of theComanches fired arrows, but they fell far short, and the Americans paidno attention to them.
"We'll take a bite and a drink, Phil," said Bill Breakstone, "a bite ofcold 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 lanternscarrying candles in the train, and these were hung on the sides of thewagons facing the inner ring, casting a pleasant light on the men asthey passed. But Phil and his two comrades, food in hand, went outside.
"Hope it won't come on too dark," said Breakstone. "A thick night iswhat 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 nowboth Mexicans and Comanches were blurring with the darkness. A lanceblade or two gave back a last flash of fire from the setting sun, but ina few more instants the rays ceased to reach them, and they sank intothe night of the eastern plain.
"Feels damp, and that's bad," said Bill Breakstone. "Clouds mean a thicknight, and a thick night means a lot of stalking and sniping by thoserascals out there. Well, well, lay on, Macduff, and it won't be we whowill first cry, 'Hold, enough!'"
The twilight soon deepened into dark, the wind rose a little, and, asBreakstone had feared, it brought with it shifts of rain, light showersonly, but cold and very unpleasant. Only a few of the most hardenedslept. All the others kept vigilant watch about the wagons. Phil,Breakstone, and Arenberg remained together, and nothing happened untilnearly midnight. Then the mixed force of the enemy, creeping near,opened fire from every side, but the American sharpshooters lying downon the ground replied, firing at the flashes. This combat lasted nearlyhalf an hour, and it was more spectacular than dangerous to thedefenders.
"This is drawn out rather long and produces nothing, Sir Philip of theMidnight, the Wilderness, and the Rain," said Bill Breakstone, "and withour long range rifles we have the advantage. They're merely wastinggood lead. Ah, I think I must have got that fellow! I hope it was oneof those sneaking Comanches, and, if so, he deserves it for keeping mehere on the ground in the rain, when I ought to be snoozing comfortablyin a wagon."
He had fired at a flash about a hundred yards away, and his own firedrew shots from different points. Phil heard bullets whistling over hishead, but, as they were hugging the earth very closely, he did not feelany great alarm over such blind shooting.
The firing increased a little presently, and now its effect upon the boywas wholly spectacular. He watched for the points of flame as one wouldfor fireworks. Sometimes the flashes looked blue, sometimes yellow, andsometimes red. At other times they showed variations and newcombinations of all three colors.
"Since one has to watch, it's rather pretty, and it breaks themonotony," said Bill Breakstone. "Now, I think our little display offireworks is ceasing."
Bill was a good prophet, because the firing quickly sank to a fewscattered shots, and then to nothing. After that, they lay in thedarkness and silence for a long time. Phil was wet and cold, and helonged for a warm blanket and the shelter of a wagon, but he was not oneto flinch. As long as those two skilled plainsmen, Breakstone andArenberg, thought it necessary to remain, he would remain without acomplaint. He also expected that some other hostile movement would bemade.
At some late hour of the night the boy heard the rapid beat of manyhoofs, and then a mass of horsemen showed dimly in the dusk, darksquadrons galloping down upon the train. But the riflemen were ready.The train became at once a living circle of fire. A storm of bulletsbeat upon the charging horsemen, and fifty yards from the barrier theyhalted. There they wavered a few moments, while wounded horses screamedwith 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 dosomething else unpleasant to us that depended on surprise."
Nevertheless, they watched all the remainder of the night, and Phil wasdevoutly glad when he saw the first touch of rose in the east, theherald of the new day. Before them the plain lay clear, except a fallenhorse near by, and there was no sign of the enemy.
"They have had enough," said Bill Breakstone. "The darkness offered themtheir 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 theentire circle of the horizon with powerful field glasses, could find notrace of the enemy.