means, “Who lives?” and is the common challenge either on the field or in camp.
“Mexico!” replied Donald, acting as spokesman.
“Que gente?” demanded the officer, meaning literally, “What people?” although the challenge is used very much as our soldiers call, “Who goes there?”
“Friends!” replied Donald. “We are Americans and wish to go to Presidio del Norte.”
“Impossible!” declared the officer, who bore the rank of lieutenant. “No one can pass the lines.”
“Will you take us to the commanding officer?” was Donald’s next question.
“Without doubt,” replied the officer with a broad smile. “We are bound to do that, whether you wish or not.”
“Suits us,” was the reply; and at the word of command the little detachment started for headquarters, wherever that might be, the cavalrymen keeping the boys well surrounded.
It was a short ride, the commanding officer having made his headquarters in an adobe hut just behind a knoll similar to the one on the side of the valley where the boys had obtained their first view of the battle. They were quickly ushered into his presence and their joy and surprise may well be imagined when they recognized, in one of his aides, the captain of the rurales who had captured the smugglers at the cave.
The recognition was mutual and an exclamation of surprise burst from the lips of the captain.