The nigh breeze had swept the clouds away; the sky, of a deep azure, was studded with an infinity of stars; the night was limpid, the atmosphere so transparent as to allow the slightest varieties of the landscape to be distinguished. About four leagues from Santa Fe, a numerous band of horsemen was following a path scarce traced in the tall grass, which approached the town with countless turns and windings. These horsemen, who marched in rather decent order, were nearly 600 in number, and formed the regiment of dragoons so anxiously expected by General Ventura.
About ten paces ahead rode four or five officers gaily chatting together, among whom was the colonel. The regiment continued its march slowly, advancing cautiously, through fear of losing its way in a perfectly strange country. The colonel and his officers who had always fought in the States bordering the Atlantic, found themselves now for the first time in these savage countries.
"Caballeros," the colonel suddenly remarked, "I confess to you that I am completely ignorant as to our whereabouts. Can any one of you throw a light on the subject? This road is fearful, it seems to lead nowhere, and I am afraid we have lost our way."
"We are all as ignorant as yourself on that head, colonel," an officer answered, "not one of us could say where we are."
"On my word!" the colonel went on, taking a glance of satisfaction around, "We are not in a hurry to reach Santa Fe. I suppose it makes little difference whether we get there today or tomorrow. I believe that the best thing for us to do is to bivouac here for the rest of the night; at sunrise we will start again."
"You are right, colonel," the officer said, whom he seemed to address most particularly, "a few hours' delay is of no consequence, and we run the risk of going out of our course."
"Give the order to halt."
The officer immediately obeyed; the soldiers, wearied with a long night's march, greeted with shouts of joy the order to stop. They dismounted. The horses were unsaddled and picketed, campfires were lighted, in less than an hour the bivouac was arranged.
The colonel, in desiring to camp for the night, had a more serious fear than that of losing his way; it was that of falling in with a party of Indios bravos.
The colonel was brave, and had proved it on many occasions; grown gray in harness, he was an old soldier who feared nothing in the world particularly; but accustomed to warfare in the interior of the Republic, had never seen opposed to him any but civilised foes, he professed for the Indians that instinctive fear which all the Mexicans entertain, and he would not risk a fight with an Apache or Comanche war party in the middle of the night, in a country whose resources he did not know, and run the risk of having his regiment cut to pieces by such Protean enemies. On the other hand, he was unaware that the governor of Santa Fe had such pressing need of his presence, and this authorised him in acting with the utmost precaution. Still, as soon as the bivouac was established, and the sentries posted, the colonel sent off a dozen resolute men under an Alferez, to trot up the country and try to procure a guide.