General Worth and a group of officers had issued upon the flat roof of the ranch house headquarters to gaze at the smoke. Division Adjutant Captain William Mackall galloped in from the headquarters to Colonel Garland; Brigade Adjutant Nichols bore the orders to Major Lee of the Fourth Regiment.
“The battalions are to stand in line, at rest, major, prepared to move.”
“Battalion, attention!”
Officers ran to their places; the men, who had been sitting down, sprang up.
“Right—dress! Front! Order—arms! Battalion—rest!”
So the regiments waited for the command to march.
“We’ll be going yonder and lend a hand.” This was the hope. But although the firing grew heavier and the smoke clouds denser, no further orders arrived from headquarters.
Nevertheless it was plain to be seen that things were not altogether right in the west. General Worth and staff still stood outlined upon the flat roof of the ranch house, peering steadily through their glasses; the brigade and regimental officers were anxiously gazing, too; and presently the company officers drifted into little knots and gazed and murmured.
The smaller black cloud was stationary; it had not advanced, the Mexican cloud had lessened not at all. By the sounds the American batteries were lighter in metal. The smoke clouds remained separate—the American forces seemed to be getting nowhere.
The faces of the officers lengthened; the men in the ranks began to mutter restlessly.