The sky gleamed with blood-red reflections, and an impetuous wind swept before it both flames and smoke.
The Indians themselves were terrified at their own handiwork, on seeing around them entire mountains lighted up like baleful beacons; the earth became hot, and immense troops of buffalos made the ground tremble with their furious course, while they uttered those bellowings of despair which fill with terror the hearts of the bravest men.
In the camp of the Mexicans everything was in the greatest disorder; it was all noise and frightful confusion. The horses had broken their shackles, and fled away in all directions; the men seized their arms and ammunition; others carried the saddles and packages.
Everyone was crying, swearing, commanding—all were running about the camp as if they had been struck with madness.
The fire continued to advance majestically, swallowing up everything in its passage, preceded by a countless number of animals of all kinds, who bounded along with howls of fear, pursued by the scourge which threatened to overtake them at every step.
A thick smoke, laden with sparks, was already passing over the camp of the Mexicans; twenty minutes more and all would be over with them.
The general, pressing his niece in his arms, in vain demanded of the guides the best means of avoiding the immense peril which threatened them.
But these men, terrified by the imminence of the peril, had lost all self-possession. And then, what remedy could be employed? The flames formed an immense circle, of which the camp had become the centre.
The strong breeze, however, which up to that moment had kept alive the conflagration, by lending it wings, sank all at once.
There was not a breath of air.