We could resist no longer. We called out to the vidette. He could just see the heads of the hindmost.
“That will do,” cried Seguin; “come, take your horses!”
The men obeyed with alacrity, and we all moved down the ravine, leading our animals.
We pressed forward to the opening. A young man, the pueblo servant of Seguin, was ahead of the rest. He was impatient to reach the water. He had gained the mouth of the defile, when we saw him fall back with frightening looks, dragging at his horse and exclaiming—
“Mi amo! mi amo! to davia son!” (Master, master! they are here yet!)
“Who?” inquired Seguin, running forward in haste.
“The Indians, master; the Indians!”
“You are mad! Where did you see them?”
“In the camp, master. Look yonder!”
I pressed forward with Seguin to the rocks that lay along the entrance of the defile. We looked cautiously over. A singular sight met our eyes.