"Aye, aye, sir," Dave reported, after using his field glass.
"That's one of the things we wanted to know," Bowers continued. "And keep an especially sharp lookout, Ensign, for any signs of Mexican forces, hidden or in the open."
But, though Dare looked constantly, he saw no indications of the Mexican column with which General Maas had retreated.
"Too bad about Cantor of your ship," murmured Lieutenant Bowers, a little later. "Though the forces have been searching for him for three or four days he can't be found anywhere. It must be fearful to be tried for treason to one's flag. I am hoping that Cantor will be brought in dead. Under such charges as he faces, there's more dignity in being dead."
"Much more," Dave assented, in a low voice.
On and on they flew. Once, when Dave sighted moving persons in the distance, Bowers drove the craft up to three thousand feet above the earth. But soon, under the glass, these suspects turned out to be a party of wretched refugees, hurrying, ragged, barefooted, starving, gaunt and cactus-torn, to safety within the American lines at Vera Cruz.
For many miles Bowers's craft flew inland, and much valuable information was picked up, besides the data from which any naval draughtsman could construct a very good map of that part of the country.
At last Lieutenant Bowers turned back.
Suddenly Dave exclaimed, "Hullo! There are two men coming out of the adobe house ahead."
The house in question was out about four miles beyond Trent's station.