CHAPTER XX
ANOTHER VISITOR
The dawn!
Some trooper started the cheer when the first faint red streak began to show through the fog, and the others took it up, until all the defenders at the mission were hailing the day except the frailes busy with their prayers.
The dawn meant that no more could the hostiles approach under cover of darkness, make unexpected attacks in certain quarters, or slip up unnoticed until within a few feet of the walls. Now they could be observed easily on every side, and an open charge could be met by a concentrated defence.
As the day broadened and the fog began to lift a constant pattering of musket slugs beat against the walls, and flaming arrows were still being discharged. Neophytes carried food and water and wine to the men on the wall and at the windows of the buildings, and they ate and drank as they fought, trying to pick off enemies when head or leg or arm showed.
Every boulder had a hostile behind it, every pile of debris, and they were intrenched behind the wall of the orchard, from which comparative security they showered bullets against those of the mission.
Dead and wounded gentiles and traitorous neophytes dotted the ground on every side of the plaza. Eight defenders were stretched in a row near the wall, victims of the conspiracy. More than a score wounded had been quartered in the church, where the frailes attended to their injuries as well as they could, for the church was where the last stand would be made if necessary.
A nervous, anxious comandante paced the plaza, scarcely speaking to his men. Ensign Sanchez, from a position near the end of the wall, had glass to eye, searching El Camino Real for a cloud of dust that would tell of the approach of the Governor and his force, fearing as he looked that it would not be possible for his excellency to arrive until the end of the day.
A great deal depended on what had transpired at San Luis Rey de Francia. There was a chance the Governor would have to stop and give aid there and could not continue to San Diego de Alcalá. It was certain the hostiles knew the Governor was coming, and would attempt to gain possession of the mission before his arrival.
Sergeant Cassara still sat against the wall of the storehouse, and Gonzales, down on his knees beside him, was holding a wine cup while the sergeant drank. Gonzales had suffered a minor wound, but made little of it.