“They are going to march by within a hundred feet of us,” whispered Hal, following the course of the ravine.
Juan grasped his rifle tightly to still the trembling of his fingers.
By this time, the head of the column was within five hundred feet.
At the head rode a half a dozen mounted Spanish officers.
Behind them marched a captain and two lieutenants in command of the infantrymen.
Tattered and dusty-looking were these soldiers. Many of them limped, as if used up by a long forced march. Just at the foot of the hill from which Hal and Juan glared from covert, the captain, at a sign from one of the mounted officers, cried:
“Halt!”
It was a popular order, as the relieved faces of the men instantly showed.
“Break ranks.”
Arms were stacked, four sentinels mounted, and the horses tethered.