It was true. Middleton and Woodfall, even when they searched the entire circle of the horizon with powerful field glasses, could find no trace of the enemy.
CHAPTER X
PHIL'S LETTER
Now began the great march. The whole train was filled with an extraordinary animation. South to Taylor! South to the Rio Grande! South to join the forlorn hope against the Mexican masses! It appealed to them more than Santa Fé had ever appealed. Wild spirits, thrilling with the love of adventure and the hope of battle, they had before them the story of Texas and its gallant and victorious stand against overwhelming numbers. They knew every detail of that desperate and successful struggle, and they felt that they could do as well. Indeed, among them were some who had been mere boys at San Jacinto, and they began to talk of Sam Houston and that glorious war, of Goliad and of the Alamo, when the last man fell.
But while they talked they worked. In their zeal and enthusiasm they forgot that not one man in ten had closed his eyes the night before, and, a half hour after the brief breakfast was finished, they started again. It was a long journey, but they were prepared for it, and they moved steadily onward all through the day. Two or three times single horsemen were seen through the field glasses, but they were so far away none could tell whether they were Indians or Mexicans. Middleton, however, was firmly convinced that they would not be attacked again, at least not by the same forces which had been making so much trouble for them.
"There isn't much profit in hunting us," he said, "we are too difficult game, and the hunter has suffered more damage than the hunted. Moreover, de Armijo will want to join the main Mexican army near the Rio Grande. More glory is to be won there, and, if I mistake not, he is an exceedingly ambitious man. But the Comanches will leave so formidable a foe to snap up wandering hunters or small parties."
Middleton's theory seemed probable, but they did not relax the watch. That night half the men stood guard until midnight, and the other half until morning. The whole night passed in complete peace. There was not a single shot at the sentinels. The only sounds they heard were the lonesome howls of coyotes far out on the plain. Phil, Breakstone, and Arenberg were in the first watch, and they walked back and forth together in a little segment of the circle about thirty yards from the wagons. They talked more than usual, as they shared in the general belief that there would be no further attack, at least, not yet.
The night, in truth, was in sharp contrast with the one that had preceded it. There was no rain and no wind, the sky was just a peaceful blue, cut by the white belt of the Milky Way, and with the great stars dancing in myriad pools of light. Strife and battle seemed far away and forgotten.
"It will take us a long time to reach General Taylor on the Rio Grande or beyond, where he iss likely to be," said Arenberg.
"A couple of months, maybe," said Breakstone.