"You had good company, Sir Philip of the Sleepy Head," exclaimed Breakstone joyously. "Count Hans, of the Snore was traveling with you into that unknown land to which millions have gone and returned, and of which not one can tell anything."
"It iss so," said Arenberg. "I confess my weakness."
They dressed rapidly, and, refreshed and young again, ran back to the train. The twilight was now coming, and the wagons were drawn up in the usual circular formation, with the animals in the middle, and, outside the circle, were burning several fires of dry cactus and cottonwood, around which men were cooking.
"Just in time for supper," said Bill Breakstone. "I was a great rover when I was a boy, but my mother said I took care never to get out of sound of the dinner-bell. It may be funny, but my appetite is just as good in Mexico as it was in Texas."
They ate strips of bacon, venison, and jerked buffalo, with a great appetite. They drank coffee and felt themselves becoming giants in strength. The twilight passed, and a brilliant moon came out, flooding the plain with silvery light. Then they saw a horseman coming toward them, riding directly through the silver flood, black, gigantic, and sinister.
"Now what under the sun can that be?" exclaimed Bill Breakstone.
"You should say what under the moon. It iss more correct," said Arenberg. "I can tell you, also, that it iss a white man, although the figure looks black here--I know by the shape. It iss also an American officer in uniform. I know it because I saw just then a gleam of moonlight on his epaulets. He iss coming to inspect us."
The approach of the stranger aroused, of course, the deepest curiosity in everybody, and in a few moments a crowd gathered to gaze at this man who came on with such steadiness and assurance. His figure, still magnified by the moon, out of which he seemed to be riding, showed now in perfect outline. He carried no rifle, but they could see the hilt of a sword on his thigh. He wore a military cap, and the least experienced could no longer doubt that he was an army officer.
"He knows that we are friends," said Middleton, "or he would not come on so boldly. Unless I mistake much, he sits his horse like a regular officer of the United States cavalry. That seat was learned only at West Point."
The stranger rode out of the magnifying rays. His horse and himself shrank to their real size. He came straight to the group, leaped to the ground, and, holding the bridle in one hand, lifted his cap with the other in salute. Middleton sprang forward.