"The country is alive with horse. Every village is in arms, every rancho has turned out its riders; and keen riders they are, I assure you. Why, between us and the fences, and all the way towards Encinos, there are not less than a thousand men scattered about in little bands, from six to fifty and upward. And now, you go and bid your men to put no more wood on the fires, and lie down one and all, and get all the sleep they can. They will need it before we reach Monterey."
"What! will you have no sentinel?"
"I would rather have my brown horse, Emperor, for a sentinel, than all the dragoons in the United States, or out of it. Do what I bid you, and then get to your bed yourself. I will wake you before the morning star is up to-morrow."
Gordon arose, well satisfied that the Partisan knew his business far better than he, and went away to do his bidding, much to the delight of the unfortunate dragoon, who was pacing up and down with his carbine in the hollow of his arm, envying his more lucky comrades their sound and healthy slumbers.
This duty done, the young officer hurried back to his tent and his fair bride; and, in doing so, passed close to the bivouac of the Partisan.
He had wrapped himself close in the handsome blanket, with his knife drawn in one hand, and his pistol in the other, ready for instant defense on the least alarm; and, with his head resting in the hollow of his large Spanish saddle, was already buried in deep and dreamless sleep.
In ten minutes more there was not an eyelid open, of man or animal, in the encampment; and the broad, lustrous, Northern moon, sailing in a flood of silver glory through the azure firmament, alone watched over them, like the unsleeping eye of an all-seeing Providence.
[CHAPTER III.]
THE PASSAGE OF THE BRAVO.