"It iss so! I feel it iss so!" said Arenberg. "I feel that my boy iss out there somewhere with the Comanche riders, and that we will find him."
"Of course we will," said Breakstone cheerfully. "Phil, you see that a place is registered in this company for one William Arenberg, blue eyes, light hair, fair complexion, age ten years. Meanwhile I want to tell you, John Bedford, that we were so certain of getting you, in spite of the impossible, that we brought along an extra rifle, pistol, and ammunition, and that we also have a horse for you over in the valley with the others."
"It's like all that you have done for me," said John, "thorough and complete."
They went over into the valley the next day, saddled and bridled the horses, and, well provided with food and ammunition, started for the vast plains of Northwestern Texas, on what would have seemed to others a hopeless quest, distance and space alike were so great. When they came out upon one of the early ridges John had a sudden and distinct view of the Castle of Montevideo lying below, honey-colored, huge, and threatening. A shudder that had in it an actual tinge of physical pain passed through him. One cannot forget in a moment three years between stone walls. But the shudder was quickly gone, and, in its place, came a thrill of pure joy. Freedom, freedom itself, irrespective of all other good things, still sparkled so gloriously in his veins that it alone could make him wholly happy.
They rode on over the ridge. John looked back. The Castle of Montevideo was shut from his view now forever, although he never ceased to remember the minutest detail of Cell 87 and the little patch of mountainside that could be seen from the deep loophole of a window.
But they were all joyous, Phil because he had found and rescued his brother, John because he had been found and rescued, Bill Breakstone because he had helped in great deeds ending in triumph, and Hans Arenberg because they were now engaged upon his own quest, the quest that lay next to his heart, and these comrades of his were the best and most loyal that a man could ever have for such a service. Three or four years rolled away from Hans Arenberg, the blue eyes grew brighter, the pink in his cheeks deepened, and Phil, looking at him, saw that he was really a young man. Before, he had always made upon his mind the impression of middle age.
They rode steadily toward the northwest for many days without serious adventure. Once or twice they encountered small bands of Mexican guerillas, with whom they exchanged distant shots without harm, but the war was now south of them, and soon they passed entirely beyond its fringe, leaving the mountains also behind them. They met various American scouts and trappers, from whom they bought a couple of pack horses, two good rifles, and a large supply of fresh ammunition. It was explained by Bill Breakstone, who said:
"More than enough
Merely makes weight,
Leas than enough,
You're doomed by fate."
The two extra horses were trained to follow, and they caused no trouble. They carried the supplies of spare arms and ammunition and also of dried venison for the intervals in which they might find no game. They also found it wise to take skin bags of water, buying the bags at a village occupied by American troops, which they passed. They found Northern Mexico almost at peace. Resistance to the Americans there had ceased practically, and in the towns buying and selling, living and dying went on as usual. They had nothing to guard against but sudden ambushes by little bands of guerillas, and they were now all so experienced and so skilled with the rifle that they feared no such trap.
It was wonderful at this time to watch John Bedford grow. He had already reached the stature and frame of a man, but when he came from the Castle of Montevideo he was a frame, and not much more. Now the flesh formed fast upon this frame, cords and knots of muscle grew upon his arms, his cheeks filled out, the prison pallor disappeared and gave way to a fine healthy brown, the creation of the Southern sun, his breath came deep and regular from strong lungs, and he duly notified Bill Breakstone that within another month he would challenge him to a match at leaping, wrestling, jumping, boxing, or any other contest he wished. They had also bought good clothes for him at one of the villages, and he was now a stalwart young man, anxious to live intensely and to make up the three years that he had lost.