"Are the Indians really coming up?"
"The dust raised by their horses' hoofs can already be perceived. We have not a moment to lose in preparing for defence. I suppose I can reckon on you?"
"¡Rayo de Dios!! I should hope so."
"Come, then, for time presses."
Kidd had in reality prepared, with his usual Machiavelism, a new treachery, of which, unluckily for him, he was destined to be the first victim. The whole pueblo was in an uproar: the streets were crowded with soldiers proceeding to their posts; with women, children, and aged persons flying in terror; with rancheros, who arrived at a gallop to find shelter in the town, and heightened the general alarm by the terror depicted on their faces; cattle were dashing madly about the streets, deserted by their herds, who were compelled to proceed to the intrenchments; and on the distant plain the body of Indians could be seen through the dust clouds, coming up at headlong speed.
"They are numerous," the senator whispered to the colonel.
"Too many," the latter answered; "but silence! Let us look cheerful."
There were twenty minutes of indescribable anxiety, during which the defenders of the pueblo were enabled to examine their enemies, and form an idea of the terrible danger that menaced them.
Unhappily, the sun was on the point of setting, and it was evident that the Redskins had calculated their march so as to arrive exactly at that moment, and continue the attack through the night. The colonel, foreseeing that he might possibly be compelled to have recourse to flight, collected a band of fifty resolute horsemen, whom he gave orders not to leave the Plaza Major, and be ready for any eventuality. After their first charge the Indians retired out of musket range, and did not renew their attack. A few horsemen, better mounted than the rest, were scattered over the plain, picking up the dead and wounded, and capturing the straggling horses; but the colonel gave orders that they should not be fired at—not through humanity, but in order to spare his ammunition, of which he possessed a very small stock.
Night set in, and a deep gloom covered the earth; but the redskins lit no fires. This circumstance alarmed the colonel; but several hours passed, and nothing led to the possibility of an attack being suspected. Profound silence brooded over the pueblo and the surrounding plains, and the Indians seemed to have disappeared as if by enchantment. The Mexicans tried in vain to distinguish any suspicious forms in the darkness; they saw and heard nothing. This expectation of a danger, which all felt to be imminent and terrible, had something frightful for the besieged.