Altsheler Joseph Alexander
The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

"This is a letter, Bill," he said, "and you've seen it."

"At a distance," replied Bill Breakstone with assumedcarelessness. "Too far for me to read a word of it.Love letter of yours, Phil? You're rather young for thatsort of thing. Still, I suppose I'll have to call you SirPhilip of the Lost Lady and the Broken Heart."

"It's not that," said Phil. "This letter tells why Icame into the Southwest. Somehow, I've wanted tokeep it to myself, but I don't now. Will you read it,Bill? It's hard to make out some of the words, but ifyou look close you can tell."

He reached out the worn piece of paper.

"Not unless you feel that you really want me to readit," said Breakstone.

"I really want you to do so," said Phil.

Breakstone took the paper in his hands and smoothedit out. Then he held it up to the light, because thewriting was faded and indistinct, and deciphered:

"I'm here, Phil, in this stone prison-it must besome sort of an old Spanish castle, I think, in theMexican mountains. We were blindfolded and we traveledfor days, so I can't tell you where I am. But I do knowthat we went upward and upward, and, when my shoeswore out, rocks sharp like steel cut into my feet. Wealso crossed many deep gulleys and ravines. I think wewent through a pass. Then we came down into groundmore nearly level. My feet were bleeding. We passedthrough a town and we stopped by a well. Then awoman gave me a cup of water. My throat was parchedwith dust. I knew it was a woman by her voice and herwords of pity, spoken in Mexican. Then we came here.I have been shut up in a cell. I don't know how long, because I've lost count of time. But I'm here, Phil, between four narrow walls, with a narrow window that looksout on a mountainside, where I can see scrub pines andthe thorny cactus. You're growing up now, Phil, andyou may be able to come with friends for me. There'sone here that's kind to me, the old woman who bringsme my food, and she's loaned me a pencil and paper towrite this. I've written the letter, and she's going tosmuggle it away somehow northward into Texas, and thenit may be passed on to you. I'm hoping, Phil, that itwill reach you, wherever you are. If it does I know thatyou will try to come. JOHN BEDFORD."

"Look on the other side," said Phil.

Bill Breakstone turned it over and read the inscription:

"To Philip Bedford, Esquire,

"Paris,

"Kentucky."

Tears stood in the boy's eyes, and his hands weretrembling. Breakstone waited quietly.

"As you see," said Phil, when he felt that his voicewas steady, "the letter came. It's my brother, John, who wrote it. A man riding across the country fromFrankfort gave it to me in Paris last year. Aflatboatman had brought it up the Kentucky River from itsmouth at the Ohio, and when he came to Frankfort heasked if anybody would take it to Paris. A dozen wereready to do it. The flatboatman-his name wasSimmons, a mountaineer-knew nothing about the letter.He said it had been given to him at the mouth of theOhio by a man on a steamer from New Orleans. Theother man said it had been dropped in front of him onhis table at an inn in New Orleans by a fellow who lookedlike a Mexican. He thought at first it was just a scrapof paper, but when he read it and looked around for theman, he was gone. He resolved to send the letter on tome if he could, but he doesn't know how many hands ithad passed through before it reached him. But it'sJohn's handwriting. I could never mistake it."

The boy's voice trembled now, and the tears rose inhis eyes again. Breakstone looked at the paper, turningit over and over.

"The old woman that your brother writes about wasfaithful," he said at last. "Likely a dozen men orwomen had it before it was dropped on that table in NewOrleans. What was your brother doing in Texas, Phil?"

"He was older than I, and he went to Texas to helpin the fighting against Mexico. You know there wereraids on both sides long after San Jacinto. Youremember the Mier expedition of the Texans, and there wereothers like it. John and his comrades were taken in oneof these, but I don't know exactly which. I have writtenletters to all the Texas officials, but none of them knowanything."

"And of course you started at once," said Bill Breakstone.

"Of course. There was nothing to keep me. Wewere only two, and I sold what we had, came down theKentucky into the Ohio, and then down the Mississippito New Orleans, where I met you and the others. I hadan idea that John had been carried westward, and that Imight learn something about him at Santa Fé, or at leastthat Santa Fé might be a good point from which toundertake a search. It's all guesswork anyway, that is, mostly, but when de Armijo told us that war had come Iwasn't altogether sorry, because I knew that would takeus down into Mexico, where I would have a better chanceto look for John. What do you think of it, Bill?"

"Let me look at the letter again," said Breakstone.

Phil handed it back to him, and he read and rereadit, turned it over and over again, looked at theinscription, "To Philip Bedford, Paris, Kentucky," and thentried to see writing where none was.

"It's the old business of a needle in a haystack,Phil," he said. "We're bound to confess that. Wedon't know where this letter was written nor when.Your brother, as he says, had lost count of time, but hemight have made a stagger at a date."

"If he had put down any," said Phil, "it was rubbedout before it reached me. But I don't think it likelythat he even made a guess. Do you know, Bill, I'mafraid that maybe, being shut up in a place like that, itmight, after a long time-well, touch his head just alittle. To be shut up in a cell all by yourself for a year, maybe two years, or even more, is a terrible thing, theysay."

"Don't think that! Don't think it!" said Bill Breakstonehastily. "The letter doesn't sound as if it werewritten by one who was getting just a little bit out oftune. Besides, I'm thinking it's a wonderful thing thatletter got to you."

"I've thought of that often, myself," exclaimed Phil,a sudden light shining in his eyes. "This is a message,a call for help. It comes out of nowhere, so to speak, out of a hidden stone castle or prison, and in some wayit reaches me, for whom it was intended. It seems to methat the chances were a million to one against its coming, but it came. It came! That's the wonderful, theunforgettable thing! It's an omen, Bill, an omen and a sign.If this little paper with the few words on it came to methrough stone walls and over thousands of miles, well, Ican go back with it to the one who sent it!"

His face was transfigured, and for the time absoluteconfidence shone in his eyes. Bill Breakstone, a man ofsympathetic heart, caught the enthusiasm.

"We'll find him, Phil! We'll find him," he exclaimed.

Philip Bedford, so long silent about this which laynearest to his heart, felt that a torrent of words wasrushing to his lips.

"I can't tell you, Bill," he said, "how I felt whenthat letter was handed to me. Jim Harrington, a farmerwho knew us, brought it over from Frankfort. He wason his horse when he met me coming down the street, andhe leaned over and handed it to me. Of course he hadread it, as it wasn't in an envelope, and he sat thereon his horse looking at me, while I read it, although Ididn't know that until afterward.

"Bill, I was so glad I couldn't speak for awhile.We hadn't heard from John in two or three years, and wewere all sure that he was dead. After I read the letterthrough, I just stood there, holding it out in my handand looking at it. Then I remember coming back toearth, when Jim Harrington leaned over to me from hissaddle and said: 'Phil, is it genuine?'

"'It's real,' I replied, 'I'd know his handwritinganywhere in the world.'

"'What are you going to do, Phil?' he asked.

"'I'm going to start for Mexico to-morrow,' I said.

"'It's a powerful risky undertaking,' he said.

"'I'm going to start for Mexico to-morrow,' I saidagain.

"Then from his height on the horse he put his handon my head for a moment and said: 'I knew you'd go,Phil. I know the breed. I was in the War of 1812 withyour father, when we were boys together. You're only aboy yourself, but you go to Mexico, and I believe you'llfind John.'

"So you see, Bill, even at the very start there was onewho believed that I would succeed."

"The signs do point that way," admitted Bill Breakstone."Every fact is against you, but feeling isn't.I've lived long enough, Phil, to know that the impossiblehappens sometimes, particularly when a fellow isstriving all his might and main to make it happen.What kind of a fellow was this brother of yours, Phil?"

"The finest in the world," replied Phil. "He raisedme, Bill, as they say up there in Kentucky. He is fouryears older than I am, and we were left orphans, young.He taught me about everything I know, helped me atschool, and then, when I got big enough, we made trapstogether, and in the fall and winter caught rabbits.Then I had a little gun, and he showed me how to shootsquirrels. We went fishing in the Kentucky often, andhe taught me to ride, too. He was big and strong.Although only a boy himself, he could throw anybody in allthe towns about there, but he was so good-natured aboutit that the men he threw liked him. Then we began tohear about Texas. Everybody was talking about Texas.Many were going there, too. It seemed to us the mostwonderful country on earth. John caught the fever. Hewas going to make fortunes for both of us. I don't knowhow, but he meant to do it. I wasn't big enough to gowith him, but he would send for me later. He went downthe river to New Orleans. I had a letter from himthere, and another from San Antonio, but nothing evercame after that until this dirty, greasy little piece ofpaper dropped out of the skies. It was four yearsbetween."

"Four years between!" repeated Bill Breakstone,"and we don't know what has happened in all that time.But it seems to me, Phil, that you're right. If this littlepiece of paper has come straight out of the dark thousandsof miles to you, then it's going to be a guide to usback to the place where it started, because, Phil, I'mgoing to help you in this. I've got a secret errand of myown, and I'm not going to tell it to you just yet, but itcan wait. I'm going to see you through, Phil, and we'regoing to find that brother John of yours, if we have to ripopen every prison in Mexico."

His own eyes were bright now with the light ofenthusiasm, and he held out his hand, which Phil seized.The fingers of the two were compressed in a strong clasp.

"It's mighty good of you, Bill," said the boy, "tohelp me, because this isn't going to be any easy search."

"It won't be any search at all for awhile," said BillBreakstone, "because a great war is shoving in between.We are approaching the Rio Grande now, Phil."

The summer was now gone, and they were well intoautumn. The train had come a great distance, moremiles than any of them could tell. Cool winds blewacross the Texas uplands, and the nights were often sharpwith cold. Then the fires of cottonwood, dry cactus, orbuffalo chips were very welcome, and it was pleasant tosit before them and speculate upon what awaited themon the other side of the Rio Grande. They had passedbeyond the domain of the Comanches, and they wereskirting along the edge of a country that containedscattered houses of adobe or log cabins-Mexicans in theformer, and Americans in the latter. These were notcombatants, but they were full of news and gossip.

There had been a revolution or something like it inMexico. The report of the American successes, at thebeginning, was true. Taylor had defeated greatlysuperior numbers along the Rio Grande, and, after a severebattle, had taken Monterey by storm. Then the Mexicans, wild with rage, partly at their own leaders, hadturned out Paredes, their president, and the famous SantaAnna had seized the power. Santa Anna, full of energyand Latin eloquence, was arousing the Mexican nationagainst invasion, and great numbers were gathering torepel the little American armies that had marched acrossthe vast wilderness to the Mexican border. This newsmade Middleton very serious, particularly that aboutSanta Anna.

"He's been called a charlatan, a trickster, cruel, unscrupulous, and many other things not good," he saidone evening as they sat about a fire, "and probably allthe charges are true, but at the same time he is a man ofgreat ability. He has intuition, the power to divine theplans of an opponent, something almost Napoleonic, andhe also has fire and energy. He will be a very dangerousman to us. He hates us all the more because the Texanstook him at San Jacinto. If I remember rightly, two boyslooking for stray mules found him hiding in the grassthe day after the battle, and brought him in a prisoner.Such a man as he is not likely to forget such ahumiliation as that."

"I have seen him with my own eyes," said Arenberg."He iss a cruel man but an able one. Much harm issmeant, and much may be done."

That ended the German's comment, and, taking hispipe, he smoked and listened. But his face, lighted upby the flames, was sad. It was habitually sad, althoughPhil believed that the man was by nature cheery andoptimistic. But Arenberg still kept his secret.

They learned, also, that there had been an armisticebetween the Americans and the Mexicans, but that SantaAnna had used all the time for preparations. Then thenegotiations were broken off, and the war was to pass intoa newer and fiercer phase. Taylor was at Saltillo, abouttwo hundred miles beyond the line, but Scott, who hadbeen on the Rio Grande some time earlier, had takenmost of his good officers and troops for the invasion byway of Vera Cruz, and Taylor, with his small remainingforce, was expected to stand on the defensive, evento retreat to the Rio Grande. Instead of that, he hadadvanced boldly into the mountains. Politics, it wassaid, had intervened, and Taylor was to be shelved.Middleton, usually reserved, commented on this to Phil,Breakstone, and Arenberg, who, he knew, would notrepeat his words.

"I've no doubt that this news is true," he said, "andit must be a bitter blow to old Rough and Ready-that'swhat we call Taylor in the army. He's served all his lifewith zeal and efficiency, and now he's to be put aside, after beginning a successful and glorious campaign. It'sa great wrong that they're doing to Zachary Taylor."

"But we're going to join him anyhow, are we not?"asked Phil.

"Yes, that's our objective. I should have to do so, because my original instructions were to report to him, and they have not been changed. And, with Santa Annaleading the Mexicans, what our Government expects tohappen at one place may happen at another."

The train itself was now in splendid condition. Allthe wounded men had fully recovered. The sick horsesand mules were well again. The weather had been good, game was plentiful, their diet was varied and excellent, and there was no illness. Moreover, their zeal increasedas they drew near the seat of war, and the reports, sometrue, some false, and all lurid, came thick and fast. Itwas hard to keep some of them from leaving the trainand going on ahead, but Middleton and Woodfall, bystrenuous efforts, held them in hand.

They shifted back now toward the east, and came atlast to the Rio Grande. Phil was riding ahead of thetrain, when he caught the first view of it-low banks, animmense channel, mostly of sand, with water, lookingyellow and dangerous, flowing here and there in two orthree streams. The banks were fringed but sparsely withtrees, and beyond lay Mexico, the Mexico of Cortez andthe Aztecs, the Mexico of gold and romance, and theMexico of the lost one whom he had come so far to find.

It was one of the most momentous events in PhilipBedford's life, this view of Mexico, to which he had comeover such a long trail. It was not beautiful, there acrossthe Rio Grande; it was bare, dark, and dusty, withrolling hills and the suggestion of mountains far off to theright. The scant foliage was deep in autumn brown.Human life there was none. Nothing stirred in the vastexpanse of desolation. The train was so far behind himthat he did not hear the rumbling of the wagon wheels, and he sat there, horse and rider alike motionless, gazinginto the misty depths of this Mexico which held so muchof mystery and which attracted and repelled at the sametime. Question after question throbbed through hismind. Would the Americans succeed in penetrating themountains that lay beyond? And if so, in whatdirection was he to go? Which way should he look! Itseemed so vast, so inscrutable, that he was appalled.For the first time since he had left that little Paris inKentucky he felt despair. Such a search as his washopeless, doomed in the beginning. His face turnedgray, his chin sank upon his chest, but then BillBreakstone rode up beside him, and his loud, cheery voicesounded in his ear.

"Well, here we are at last, Phil," he exclaimed."We've ridden all the way across Texas, and it musthave been a hundred thousand miles. Now we stand, orrather sit, on the shores of the Rio Grande.

 
"Behold the river!
But I don't quiver.
They call it grand.
It's mostly sand.
 

It's no Mississippi, Phil, but it's a hard stream for anoutfit like ours to cross. I'm glad that Taylor hasalready cleared the way. You remember what a fightwe had with the Comanches back at the crossing of thatother and smaller river."

"I do," said Phil, "but there is nothing here tooppose us, and doubtless we can make the crossing inpeace."

CHAPTER XI
WITH THE ARMY

The crossing of the Rio Grande was a formidabletask, and the train could never have accomplishedit in the face of a foe, even small in numbers, but no Mexicans were present, and they went about theirtask unhindered. One of the streams was too deep to beforded, but they cut down the larger trees and constructeda strong raft, which they managed to steer over with longpoles. The reluctant horses and mules were forced uponit, and thus the train was carried in safety over the deepwater. Nor was the task then ended. It usually took sixhorses and ten or twelve men to drag a wagon through thesand and carry it up the bank to the solid earth beyond, the way having been carefully examined in advance inorder to avoid quicksand.

It took three days to build the raft and complete thepassage. Phil had never worked so hard in his lifebefore. He pushed at wagon wheels and pulled at thebridles of mules and horses until every bone in him ached, and he felt as if he never could get his strength again.But the train was safely across, without the loss of aweapon or an animal. They were in Mexico, and theydid not deceive themselves about the greatness anddanger of the task that lay before them. Phil felt thecurious effect which the passage over the border from onecountry to another usually has on people, especially theyoung. It seemed to him that in passing that strip ofmuddy river he had come upon a new soil, and into a newclimate-into a new world, in fact. Yet the Texasshore, in reality, looked exactly like the Mexican, and waslike it.

"Well, Phil," said Bill Breakstone, "here we are inMexico. I'm covered with mud, so are you, and so isArenberg. I think it's Texas and Mexico mud mixed,so suppose we go down, find a clear place in the water, and get rid of it."

They found a cool little pool, an eddy or backwater, where the water standing over white sand was fairly clear, and the three, stripping, sprang in. The water was deep, and Bill plunged and dived and spluttered with greatdelight. Phil and Arenberg were not so noisy, but theyfound the bath an equal pleasure. It was an overwhelmingluxury to get the sand out of their eyes and earsand hair, and to feel the cool water on bodies hot withthe ache and grime of three days' hard work.

"You'd better make the best of it, Phil," said Breakstone."The part of Mexico that we are going into isn'tvery strong on water, and maybe you won't get anotherbath for a year."

"I'm doing it," said the boy.

"And don't you mind the fact," said Bill Breakstone,"that the alligators of the Rio Grande, famous fortheir size and appetite, like to lie around in lovely coolpools like this and bite the bare legs of careless boys whocome down to bathe."

Phil felt something grasp his right leg and pull hard.He uttered a yell, and then, putting his hand onBreakstone's brown head, which was rising to the surface, convulsively thrust him back under. But Breakstone cameup three yards away, pushed the hair out of his eyes, andlaughed.

"I'm the only alligator that's in the stream," he said,"but I did give you a scare for a moment. You arebound to admit that, Sir Philip, Duke of Texas andPrince of Mexico."

"I admit it readily," replied Phil, and, noticing thatBreakstone was now looking the other way, he divedquietly and ran his finger nails sharply along his comrade'sbare calf. Breakstone leaped almost wholly out of thewater and cried:

"Great Heavens, a shark is eating me up!"

Phil came up and said quietly:

"There are no sharks in the Rio Grande, Mr. WilliamBreakstone. You never find sharks up a river hundredsof miles from the ocean. Now, I did give you a scarefor a moment, you will admit that, will you not, SirWilliam of the Shout, the Shark, and the Fright?"

"I admit it, of course, and now we are even," saidBreakstone. "Give me your hand on it."

Phil promptly reached out his hand, and Breakstone, seizing it, dragged him under. But Phil, althoughsurprised, pulled down on Breakstone's hand with all hismight, and Breakstone went under with him. Both cameup spluttering, laughing, and enjoying themselves hugely, while Arenberg swam calmly to a safe distance.

"You are a big boy, Herr Bill Breakstone," he said."You will never grow up."

"I don't want to," replied Bill Breakstone calmly."When it makes me happy all through and through justto be swimming around in a pool of nice cool water, what's the use of growing up? Answer me that, HansArenberg."

"I can't," replied the German. "It isn't in me togive an answer to such a question."

"I suppose we've got to go out at last, dress again, and go back to work," said Breakstone lugubriously."It's a hard world for us men, Phil."

"One iss not a fish, and, being not a fish," saidArenberg, "one must go out on dry land some time orother to rest, and the some time has now come."

They swam to land, but Bill Breakstone began toplead.

"Let's lie here on the sand and luxuriate for a space,Sir Philip of the Rio Grande and Count Hans of theLlano Estacado, which is Spanish for the Staked Plain, which I have seen more than once," said Bill Breakstone."The sand is white, it is clean, and it has been waitinga long time for us to lie upon it, close our eyes, andforget everything except that we are happy."

"It iss a good idea," said Arenberg. "There aretimes when it iss well to be lazy, only most men think itiss all the time."

They stretched themselves out on the white sand andlet the warm sun play upon them, permeating their bodiesand soothing and relaxing every muscle. Phil had notfelt so peaceful in a long time. It had relieved him totell the secret of his quest to Breakstone, who, with hispermission, had told it in turn to Middleton and Arenberg, and now that he was really in Mexico with strongfriends around him he felt that the first great step hadbeen accomplished. The warm sun felt exceedingly good, his eyes were closed, and a pleasant darkness veiled them,a faint murmur, the flowing of the river, came to hisears, and he floated away with the current.

"Here! here! Sir Philip of the Sleepy Head, wake up.It isn't your first duty to go to sleep when you arrive inMexico! Besides, it's time we were back at the camp, orthey'll think Santa Anna has got us already! Also, youneed more clothes than you've got on just now!"

Phil sprang up embarrassed, but he saw Arenberglooking sheepish, also.

"You had good company, Sir Philip of the SleepyHead," exclaimed Breakstone joyously. "Count Hans,of the Snore was traveling with you into that unknownland to which millions have gone and returned, and ofwhich 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, andthe 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. "Iwas a great rover when I was a boy, but my mother saidI took care never to get out of sound of the dinner-bell.It may be funny, but my appetite is just as good inMexico as it was in Texas."

They ate strips of bacon, venison, and jerked buffalo, with a great appetite. They drank coffee and feltthemselves becoming giants in strength. The twilight passed, and a brilliant moon came out, flooding the plain withsilvery light. Then they saw a horseman coming towardthem, riding directly through the silver flood, black, gigantic, and sinister.

"Now what under the sun can that be?" exclaimedBill Breakstone.

"You should say what under the moon. It iss morecorrect," said Arenberg. "I can tell you, also, that itiss a white man, although the figure looks black here-Iknow by the shape. It iss also an American officer inuniform. I know it because I saw just then a gleam ofmoonlight on his epaulets. He iss coming to inspect us."

The approach of the stranger aroused, of course, thedeepest curiosity in everybody, and in a few moments acrowd gathered to gaze at this man who came on withsuch steadiness and assurance. His figure, stillmagnified by the moon, out of which he seemed to be riding, showed now in perfect outline. He carried no rifle, butthey could see the hilt of a sword on his thigh. He worea military cap, and the least experienced could no longerdoubt that he was an army officer.

"He knows that we are friends," said Middleton, "orhe would not come on so boldly. Unless I mistake much,he sits his horse like a regular officer of the United Statescavalry. That seat was learned only at West Point."

The stranger rode out of the magnifying rays. Hishorse and himself shrank to their real size. He camestraight to the group, leaped to the ground, and, holdingthe bridle in one hand, lifted his cap with the other insalute. Middleton sprang forward.

"Edgeworth," he exclaimed, "when you came near Ithought it was you, but I scarcely dared to hope."

The officer, tall and striking of appearance, withpenetrating gray eyes, seized Middleton's hand.

"And it is you, Middleton," he said. "What ameeting for two who have not seen each other since theywere at West Point together."

"But it's where we both want to be," said Middleton.

"That is so," said Edgeworth with emphasis, "but Ihad heard, George, that you were sent on an errand ofuncommon danger, and I had feared-I will not hesitate tosay it to you now-that you would never come back."

Middleton laughed. He was obviously delighted withthis meeting of the comrade of his cadetship. Thenhe introduced Woodfall and the others, after which heasked:

"How did you know we were friends, Tom? Youcame on as if you were riding to a garden-party."

"A scout brought news of you," he replied. "Wehave a small force about twenty miles ahead, and I rodeback to meet you, and see what was here."

"We have some good men," said Woodfall, "and theyare willing to fight. We've come a good many hundredsof miles for that purpose."

"I believe you," said Edgeworth, running his trainedeyes over the crowd. "A finer body of men I never saw, and we need you, every one of you."

"What news?" asked Middleton eagerly.

"Much of it, and all bad. Our government has mixedthe situation badly. We've been steadily strengtheningScott, and, in the same proportion, we've been weakeningTaylor. There are rumors, I don't know howauthentic-perhaps you have heard them-that Santa Anna is comingnorth with a great force to destroy us. Taylor is expectedto retreat rapidly, but he hasn't done it. You know oldRough and Ready, George."

"I hope to Heaven he won't retreat!" exclaimed Middleton.

"He hasn't. So far he has advanced," said Edgeworth."But I ride back with you in the morning, boys, and I think great things are going to happen before long.Besides the men with you, Middleton, we've use foreverything you've got in the wagons. You won't suffer,Mr. Woodfall."

The train moved the next morning an hour earlierthan usual. Wheels were turning before daylight.Hearts were beating high, and they pushed on at greatspeed now, for wagons, until past sunset. In the middleof the day it was hot, in the evening chill winds blewdown from the crests of distant mountains, but at alltimes, morning, noon, and evening, they marched in acloud of dust, much of it impregnated with alkali. Itannoyed Phil and his comrades terribly, sifting into nose, mouth, ears, and eyes, putting a bitter taste on thepalate, and making them long for the sweet waters of thepool in which they had bathed so luxuriously.

The next day was the same; more dust, more alkali, and the deadly monotony of a treeless and sandy plain.But that night it was extremely cold. They wereapproaching the mountains, the spurs of the Sierra Madre, and the winds were sharp with the touch of ice and snow.Winter, also, had come, and in the night ice formed inthe infrequent rivulets on the plain. Now and then theypassed little Mexican villages, mostly of the adobe huts, with dirt and children strewed about in great quantities.The children were friendly enough, but the womenscowled, and the men were away. Phil did not find thevillages picturesque or attractive in any sense, and hewas disappointed.

"I hope this isn't the best Mexico has to show," he said.

"It isn't very inviting," said Bill Breakstone, "youwouldn't look around here for a Forest of Arden or aVale of Vallombrosa, but this is only the introduction toMexico. Monterey, which General Taylor took, is a finecity, and so are others farther down. I've seen a lot ofthem myself. Don't you worry, Phil, you'll find enoughto interest you before you get through."