He saw more than a score of familiar faces. A number of these soldiers were almost as young as himself, and two or three of them were related to him by blood. He had a great sensation of home, an overpowering feeling of delight. Despite strangeness and distance, old friends and kindred were around him. But old friends did not make him forget his new friends, or think any less of them. He introduced Middleton, Bill Breakstone, and Arenberg. Middleton was compelled to hurry to General Taylor with his report, but the other two remained and affiliated thoroughly.
"You camp with us," said Dick Grayson, a distant cousin of Phil's. "We've got a fine place over here, just back of the plaza. Lots of Kentuckians here, Phil--in fact, more from our state than any other. The rest are mostly from Illinois, Indiana, Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana. We haven't got many regulars, but we've got mighty good artillery, and we're ready to give a good account of ourselves against anybody. You ought to see old Rough and Ready. He's as grim as you please. Just as soon bite a ten-penny nail in two as not. Mad clean through, and I don't blame him, because he's been robbed to strengthen Scott."
Phil and his comrades went readily with Grayson. The wagon train was already scattering through the encampment, the volunteers taking their places here and there, while Woodfall and his associates were arranging for the sale of their available supplies. Phil, Breakstone, and Arenberg owned their horses, and, leading them with the bridles over their arms, they walked along with their new friends. Phil noticed that the town was well built in the Mexican style, with many handsome houses and signs of prosperity. The American invaders had harmed nothing, but their encampment was spread throughout the city.
The group walked by a green little park in which a small fountain was playing. A young Mexican in sombrero, gaudy jacket and trousers sat on a stone bench and idly thrummed a guitar. Several thick-set Mexican women, balancing on their heads heavy jars of water, passed placidly by. A small train of burros loaded with wool walked down another street. There was nothing save the presence of the soldiers to tell of war. It all looked like play. Phil spoke of the peaceful appearance of everything to Dick Grayson. Grayson shrugged his shoulders.
"You cannot tell a thing by its looks in this country," he said. "Mexicans seem nearly always to be asleep, but, as a rule, they are not. You don't see many men about, and it means that they are off with the guerillas, or that they've gone south to join Santa Anna. We haven't done any harm here. We've treated the people in Saltillo a good deal better than their own rulers often treat them, and we're friendly with the inhabitants, but Mexicans are bound to stand with Mexicans, just as Americans stand with Americans. It's natural, and I don't blame 'em for it."
"I'd wager that many a message is carried off to the enemy by these stolid looking women," said Bill Breakstone.
Yet the town itself showed little hostility. Nevertheless, Phil could not keep from feeling that it was thoroughly the enemy of the invader, as was natural. As Bill Breakstone truly said, information concerning the Americans was certainly sent to the Mexican leaders. Everything that the Americans might do in the town would quickly become known to the enemy, while a veil always hung before the Mexican troops and preparations. Nevertheless, the life of the city, save for the reduction in the number of its adult inhabitants, went on as usual.
Some of the officers occupied houses, but all the men and younger officers were in tents, either in the open places of the town or on the outskirts. Phil, Arenberg, and Breakstone spent that night with Dick Grayson and others in a little park, where about twenty tents stood. These were to be their regular quarters for the present, and, as Middleton had foreseen, the reinforcement was welcomed eagerly. They ate an abundant supper, and, the night being cold, afire was built within the ring of the tents. Here they sat and talked. Besides Dick Grayson, there were "Tobe" Wentworth, Elijah Jones, Sam Parsons, and other old friends of Phil.
As they sat before the cheerful blaze and put their blankets over their backs to shield themselves from the bitter mountain winds, they discussed the war and, after the manner of young troopers, settled it, every one in his own way and to his own perfect satisfaction. "Tobe" Wentworth was not an educated youth, but he was a great talker.
"I could a-planned this war," he said, "an' carried it right out without a break to a finish."