"Colonel," the Major-domo interrupted him, turning and drawing himself up to his full height; "prepare to defend yourself; the enemy is there."
"What—the enemy? you are mad, Don Felix; look out in the last gleams of day, the plain is deserted."
"Colonel, before becoming Major-domo at the Larch-tree hacienda, I was a wood ranger for fifteen years; the desert is to me a book, every page of which I can peruse. Watch the timid flight of those birds, notice the numberless flocks which are constantly joining those we first perceived; those birds, driven from their nests, are flying haphazard before an enemy who will soon appear. That enemy is the insurgent army, whose masses will soon be visible to us, probably preceded by fire."
"Rayo de Dios, Don Felix," the Colonel suddenly exclaimed; "you are right, look there!"
A red line, momentarily growing wider, suddenly appeared on the extreme verge of the horizon.
"Did the flight of the birds deceive us?" the Major-domo asked.
"Forgive me, friend, a very excusable ignorance, but we have not a moment to lose."
They went down at once; five minutes later the defenders of the hacienda lined the tops of the walls, and ambushed themselves behind the exterior intrenchments. The Texan army, now perfectly visible, was deploying on the plains in heavy columns.