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

"Good work," said Marshall to Middleton. "Thatstartled them. They will ride back a little, and ourriflemen, too, are doing almost as good work in themoonlight as they could in the sunlight."

The blood was pounding so heavily in Phil's ears afterthe double charge that he did not realize until then thatthe heavy firing had never ceased. The little Americanforce reloaded and pulled the trigger so quickly that thevolume of their firing gave the effect of numbers threeor four times that of the real. The darkness, too, helpedthe illusion, and the Southerners and Westerners repliedto the shouts of the Mexicans with resounding cheers oftheir own. An officer galloped up, and Phil heard himshout to Marshall above the crash of the firing:

"The last of the wagons is beyond the range of fire!"

"Good," said Marshall. "Now we, too, must fallback. The moment they discover how few we are theycan wrap us in a coil that we cannot break. But we'llfight them while they follow us."

The little force was drawn in skillfully, and thehorsemen on either flank began to retire from Agua Neva. TheMexicans, urged by Minon, Torrejon, Ampudia, andSanta Anna himself, pushed hard against the retiringforce, seeking either to capture or destroy it. More thanonce they threatened to enfold it with their long columns, but here the horsemen, spreading out, held them off, andthe long range rifles of the Americans were weapons thatthe Mexicans dreaded. As on many another battlefield, the Westerners and Southerners, trained from theirboyhood to marksmanship, fired with terrible accuracy. Themoonlight, now that their eyes had grown used to it, wasenough for them. Their firing, as the slow retreatnorthward toward the Pass of Angostura went on, never ceased, and their path was marked by a long trail of their fallenfoes. Santa Anna and his generals sought in vain toflank them, but the darkness was against the greater force.It was not easy to combine and make use of numberswhen only moonlight served. Regiments were likely tofire into one another, but the small compact body of theAmericans kept easily in touch, and they retreatedpractically in one great hollow square blazing with fire onevery side. "Hold on as long as you can," Taylor hadsaid to Marshall, but Marshall, in the face of twenty toone, held on longer than any one had dreamed.

Santa Anna had expected to get his great cavalry forcein the rear of Taylor at Agua Neva, but at midnight, finding Taylor not there and only a small detachment left, hehad hoped to capture or destroy that in a few minutes.Instead, half his army was fighting a most desperate rearguard action with a few hundred men, and every secondMarshall saved was precious to the commander back thereat the Pass of Angostura.

Phil was grazed by another bullet, and his horse wasstung once. Arenberg was slightly wounded, butBreakstone was untouched, and the three still kept closetogether. The boy could not take note of the passage oftime. It seemed to him that they had been fighting forhours as they gave way slowly before the huge mass ofthe Mexican army. Great clouds of smoke from the firinghad turned the moonlight to a darker quality. Now andthen it drifted in such quantities that the moon waswholly obscured, and then it was to the advantage of theAmericans, who could fire from their hollow square inevery direction, and be sure that they hit no friend.

They had now left the town far behind and were wellon the way to the Pass. Phil noticed that the fire of theMexicans was slackening. Evidently Santa Anna hadbegun to believe that it would not pay to follow up anylonger a rear guard that stung so hard and so often.This certainly was the belief of Bill Breakstone.

"The pursuit is dying," he said, "not because theydon't want us, but because our price is too high.

 
It is not right
To fight at night
Unless you know
Right well your foe.
The darkness cumbers
Him with numbers;
The few steal away,
And are gone at day.
 

"My verse is a little ragged this time, Phil, but it ismade in the heat of action, and it at least tells a truetale. See how their fire is sinking! The flashes stop tothe right, they stop to the left, and they will soon stop inthe center. It's a great night, Phil, for Marshall and hismen. They were ordered to do big things, and they'vefilled the order twice over. And we came into it, too,Phil, don't forget that! There, they've stopped entirely,as I told you they would!"

The firing along Santa Anna's front ceased abruptly, and as the retreat continued slowly the columns of theMexican army were lost in the darkness. No lance headsglittered, and the bugles no longer called the men toaction. Bill Breakstone had spoken truly. Santa Annafound the rear guard too tough for him to handle in thedarkness, and stopped for the rest of the night. Whenassured of this, Marshall ordered his little force to halt, while they took stock of the wounded and dressed theirhurts as best they could at such a hurried moment. Thenthey resumed their march for the pass, with the wagonsthat they had defended so well lumbering on ahead.

After the exertion of so much physical or mentalenergy the men rode or walked in silence. Phil wassurprised to find that his hands and face were wet withperspiration, and he knew then that his face must be blackwith burnt gunpowder. But he felt cold presently, as thechill night wind penetrated a body relaxed after so greatan effort. Then he took the blanket roll from his saddleand wrapped it around him. Breakstone and Arenberghad already done the same. Looking back, Phil saw afew lights twinkling where the Mexicans had lighted theirnew camp fires, but no sound came from that point.Yet, as of old, the desert wind blew, and the fine dustborne on its edge stung his face, and brought to hisnostrils an odor like that of battle. Under its influence hewas still ready for combat. He gloried in the achievementof this little division in which he had a part, andit gave him strength and courage for the greater struggle,by far, that was coming. Breakstone shared in hispleasure, and talked lightly in his usual fashion, butArenberg was sober and very thoughtful.

"Well, we burnt old Santa Anna's face for him, if wedid do it in the dark," said Bill, "and we can do it indaylight, too."

"But did you see his numbers?" said Arenberg."Remember how vast was his camp, and with what agreat force he attacked us at Agua Neva. Ach, I fear mefor the boys who are so far from their home, the lads ofKentucky and Illinois and the others!"

"Don't be downhearted, Hans, old boy," said Breakstonewith genuine feeling. "I know you have things onyour mind-though I don't ask you what they are-thatkeep you from being cheerful, but don't forget that we'vethe habit of victory. Our boys are Bonaparte's soldiersin the campaign of Italy, they don't mean to be beaten, and they don't get beaten. And you can put that in yourpipe, too, and smoke it, Sir Philip of the Horse Battleand the Night Retreat. Look, we're approaching thePass. See the lights come out one by one. Don't thelights of a friend look good?"

Phil agreed with him. It was a satisfying thing tocome safely out of a battle in which they had done whatthey had wanted to do, and return to their own army.It was now nearly morning, but the troops still marched, while the last wagons rumbled on ahead. Scouts cameforward to hail them and to greet them warmly whenthey found that they were friends. There was exultation, too, when they heard the news of the fine fight that thelittle division had given to Santa Anna. LieutenantWashington, who was in charge of the division thatcommanded the road, met Middleton and Marshall a hundredyards from the mouths of his guns, and Phil heard themtalking. General Taylor had not yet returned fromSaltillo, where he had gone to strengthen and fortify thedivision at that place, as he greatly feared a flank movementof Santa Anna around the mountain to seize the town andcut him off.

Wool, meanwhile, was in command, and he listenedto the reports of Marshall and Middleton, commendingthem highly for the splendid resistance that they hadoffered to overwhelming numbers. Phil gathered fromtheir tone, although it was only confirmation of a fact thathe knew already, that their little force was in desperatecase, indeed. Never before had the omens seemed so darkfor an American army. For in a desolate and gloomycountry, with every inhabitant an enemy and spy uponthem, with an army outnumbering them five to oneapproaching, brave men might well despair.

It struck Phil with sudden force that the odds couldbe too great after all, and that he might never finish hisquest. In another hour or two he might see his lastsunrise. He shook himself fiercely, told himself that he wasfoolish and weak, and then rode toward the pass. Theytethered their horses on the edge of the plateau, and atthe advice of Middleton all sought sleep.

But the boy's nerves were yet keyed too highly forrelaxation. His weary body was resting, but his heart stillthrobbed. He saw the sentinels walking back and forth.He saw the dark shapes of cannon posted on the promontories, and above them the mountains darker and yet moresomber. Several fires still burned in the ravines, and theofficers sat about them talking, but most of the army slept.As Phil lay on the earth he heard the wind moaningbehind him as it swept up the pass, but it still touchedhis face with the fine impalpable dust that stung like hotsand, and that seemed to him to be an omen and apresage. He lay a long time staring into the blacknessin the direction in which Santa Anna's army now lay, where he and his comrades had fought such a good fightat midnight. He saw nothing there with his real eye, but with his mind's eye he beheld the vast preparations, the advance of the horsemen, and the flashing of thousandsof lances in the brilliant light.

When the morning sun was showing over the ridgesand peaks of the Sierra Madre, and pouring its light intothe nooks and crannies of the ravines, he fell asleep.

CHAPTER XIV
BUENA VISTA

Phil did not sleep long, only an hour perhaps, andthen it was Breakstone's arm on his shoulder thatawakened him. He had laid down fully clothed, and he sprang at once to his feet. His nerves, too, hadbeen so thoroughly keyed for action that every facultyresponded at once to the call, and he was never more wideawake in his life. Quickly he looked about him and sawthat it was a most brilliant morning. The sun wasswinging upward with a splendor that he had not beforeseen in these gorges of the Sierra Madre. The mountainswere bathed in light. The bare ridges and peaks stoodout like carving, and the sunbeams danced along theblack lava.

"It is Washington's Birthday, and the sun is doinghim honor," said Breakstone. "But look there, Phil."

He pointed a long straight finger into the south.

"See that tiny cloud of dust," he said, "there whererock and sky meet. I'll wager everything against nothingthat it was raised by the hoofs of Minon's cavalry. SantaAnna and his whole army are surely advancing. Watchit grow."

Phil looked with eager eyes, and he saw everythingthat Bill Breakstone had predicted come to pass. Thecloud of dust, so small at first that he could scarcely seeit, grew in height, and began to spread in a yellow linealong the whole horizon. By and by it grew so high thatthe wind lifted the upper part of it and sent it whirlingoff in spirals and coils. Then through the dust they sawflashes, the steel of weapons giving back the rays of thesun like a mirror.

The American scouts and sentinels had been drawnin-no need for them now-and the whole army wascrouched at the mouth of the pass. Almost every soldiercould watch Santa Anna unroll before them the vast andglittering panorama of his army. But Taylor himselfdid not see this first appearance. He had not come fromSaltillo, and Wool, the second in command, waited, troubled and uneasy.

Phil was still dismounted, and he stood with hisfriends on one of the promontories watching the mostthrilling of all dramas unfold itself, the drama in whichvictory or defeat, life or death are the stakes. It was atbest a bare and sterile country, and now, in the finish ofthe winter, the scanty vegetation itself was dead. Thedust from the dead earth and the dust from the surface ofthe lava, ground off by iron-shod hoofs, rose in cloudsthat always increased, and that seemed to thicken as wellas to rise and broaden. To Philip's mind occurred thelikeness of a vast simoon, coming, though slowly, towardthe American lines. But he knew that the heart of thesimoon was a great army which considered victoryabsolutely sure.

"Looks as if Santa Anna had a million down there inthe dust," said Breakstone. "Dost thou remember, SirPhilip of the Mountain, the Ravine, and the Lava, thatpassage in Macbeth in which Birnam Wood doth cometo Dunsinane? It is in my mind now because the dustof New Leon seems coming to the Pass of Angostura."

"They are at least as well hid as Macduff's army wasby the wood," said Phil. "That huge cloud seems toroll over the ground, and we can't see anything in it butthe flashes of light on the weapons."

They waited awhile longer in silence. The wholeAmerican army was watching. All the preparations hadbeen made, and soldiers and officers now had little to dobut bide the time. Presently the great wall of dust splitapart, then a sudden shift of wind lifted it high, andwhirled it over the plain. As if revealed by the suddenlifting of a curtain, the whole magnificent army of SantaAnna stood forth, stretching along a front of two miles, and more than twenty thousand strong. A deep breath, more like a murmur, rose from the soldiers in the pass.They had known long before that they were far outnumbered.The officers had never concealed from them thisfact, but here was the actual and visible presence.

"Five to one," said Bill Breakstone, softly and underhis breath.

"But they haven't beaten us," said Phil.

The Mexican army now halted, the cavalry of Minonin front and on the flanks, and, seen from the pass, itwas certainly an array of which Mexico could be proud.Everything stained or worn was hidden. Only thesplendor and glory appeared. The watchers saw the brightuniforms, the generals riding here and there, the numerousbatteries, and the brilliant flags waving. Evidentlythey were making a camp, as if they held the rat in theirtrap, and would take their time about settling his fate.The sound of bugles, and then of a band playing militaryairs, came up, and to those in the pass these sounds werelike a taunt. Arenberg, a man of few words, uttered alow guttural sound like a growl.

"They are too sure," he said. "It iss never well tobe too sure."

"That's the talk, Old Dutch," said Breakstone."First catch your army."

They waited awhile longer, watching, and then theyheard a cheer behind them in the pass. It was GeneralTaylor, returning from Saltillo and riding hard. Heemerged upon the plateau and sat there on his horse, overlooking the plain, and the great curve of SantaAnna's army. Phil was near enough to see his face, andhe watched him intently.

There was nothing romantic about old Zachary Taylor.He had neither youth nor distinction of appearance. Hewas lined and seamed by forty years of service, mostly inthe backwoods, and the white hair was thick around histemples. Nor was anything splendid about his uniform.It was dusty and stained by time and use. But withinthat rugged old frame beat the heart of a lion. He hadnot retreated when he heard the rumors that Santa Annawas coming, and he would not retreat now that SantaAnna was here with five to his one. Perhaps herecognized that in his sixty-two years of life his one momentfor greatness had come, and he would make the most ofit for himself and his country.

Long the general sat there on his horse, looking downinto the plain, and the more important officers clusteredin a group a short distance behind him. The brightnessof the day increased. It seemed bound to make itselfworthy of the great anniversary. The colors of thesunlight shifted and changed on the ridges and peaks, andthe thin, luminous air seemed to bring Santa Anna'sarmy nearer. A breeze sprang up presently, and it feltcrisp and fresh on the faces of the soldiers. It also blewout the folds of a large and beautiful American flag, which had been hoisted on one of the promontories, andas the fluttering and vivid colors glowed in the sun'srays, a cry of defiance, not loud, but suppressed androlling, passed through the army.

"Santa Anna will not come to any picnic," said BillBreakstone.

"He means much harm, and he will suffer much,"said Arenberg.

"Our army is not frightened," said Breakstone. "Ihave been among the troops, and they are cheerful, evenconfident."

Phil saw that the officers had been watching somethingintently with their glasses, and now he was able tosee it himself with the naked eye.

"A messenger with a white flag is coming from SantaAnna," he announced. "Now what can he want?"

"He can want only one thing," said Breakstone;"but we'll wait and let him tell it himself."

The herald, holding his white flag aloft, rode straighttoward the American army. When within three hundredyards of the American line he was met by skirmishers, who brought him forward.

"Don't you see something familiar in that figure andface, Phil?" asked Bill Breakstone.

"Yes, I know him," replied Phil. "I thought I knewhim when he rode over the first ridge, but there can be nodoubt now. It is our old friend de Armijo."

"It is he," said Breakstone, "and it is a safe thing tosay that no man was ever more stuffed with pride, vanity, and conceit than he is now. Let's press forward and seehim as he passes. Maybe, too, we can hear what he andGeneral Taylor say."

De Armijo rode up the ravine at the edge of whichPhil and his comrades stood. He saw them, and hislook was not one of friendship.

"Good morning, Señor de Armijo," said the irreverentBill Breakstone, "have you come to announce thesurrender of Santa Anna's army?"

The Mexican glared, but he made no answer, ridingon in silence toward General Taylor. He was magnificentlymounted, his uniform was heavy with gold lace, and a small gold-hilted sword hung at his side.Evidently the nephew of the governor of New Mexico was notashamed of himself. It was also evident that the woundPhil had given him was very slight. An officer met deArmijo, and they saluted each other with punctiliouscourtesy. The Mexican produced a note which was handed toGeneral Taylor.

Old Rough and Ready did not dismount, but restedthe note on his saddle-horn and read it. This note, signed by General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna,President of the Mexican Republic and Commander-in-Chiefof its armies, was written in rounded sentences. Itstated that the American army was surrounded by twentythousand men and could not possibly escape. HenceSanta Anna demanded General Taylor's immediate andunconditional surrender. "I will treat you well," headded in generous conclusion.

Phil thought that he could see the white hair aroundold Rough and Ready's temples fairly bristle withdefiance. He did see him lean over and say to de Armijo: "Tell him to come and take me." But the next instanthe called to Middleton and dictated to him a shortanswer, more polite but of the same tenor. He looked overit once, folded it, and handed it to de Armijo.

"Take that to your master."

De Armijo saluted with all the pride and haughtinessof his race. He would have liked well a few minutes tolook about and take note of the enemy's army for hisgeneral, but they had brought him up a narrow ravine, and they allowed him no chance. Now Middleton rodeback with him that the Americans might not be lackingin courtesy, and Phil and his comrades again stood by asthey passed. De Armijo merely gave them a malignantglance, but as he entered the plain that low rolling sound, almost like a roar, burst forth again from the army.Nearly every soldier had divined the nature of the errand, and nearly every one also had divined the nature, of oldRough and Ready's reply.

Phil watched de Armijo and Middleton riding onwardunder the white flag toward the gorgeous tent where SantaAnna and his generals were gathered. He saw Middletondisappear and, after awhile, come riding back again.All these demands and refusals, ridings and returns tooktime, and the two armies meanwhile rested on their arms.The afternoon came, and the sun still blazed on on ascene of peace. For awhile it reminded Phil in many ofits aspects of a vast spectacle, a panorama. Then he sawclouds of dust rise on both the east and west wings of theMexican army. Horsemen moved in columns, fluidsunlight shifting and changing in colors flowing overlances and escopetas. He also saw horses drawing cannonforward, and the bronze and steel of the guns glittered.

A little after noon a heavy force of cavalry, led byAmpudia, moved forward toward an advanced knoll heldby some of Taylor's pickets. Phil thought it was theherald of the battle, but the pickets retired after a fewshots, and the Mexicans took the knoll, making noattempt to pursue the pickets who fell back quietly onthe main army.

Then the silence was resumed, although they could seemuch motion in the Mexican army, the constant movementof horsemen and the shifting of regiments and guns.A multitude of brilliant flags carried here and therefluttered in the wind. But the American army remainedmotionless, and the soldiers, when they talked, talkedmostly in low tones.

"Phil, you didn't eat any breakfast," said Bill Breakstone,"and if I didn't remind you of it, you would skipdinner. A soldier fights best on a full stomach, and asthey're serving out coffee and bacon and other good thingsnow's your time."

"To tell you the truth, I hadn't thought of it," saidthe boy.

"Well, think of it, Sir Philip of the Spectacle and thePanorama. It isn't often that you'll have a chance tosit on a front seat in an open air theater like this, andsee deploying before you an army of twenty thousandmen, meaning business."

Phil ate and drank mechanically almost, although thefood gave him new strength without his being consciousof it, and he still watched. The long afternoon waned, the sun passed the zenith, and the colors still shifted andchanged on the bare peaks and ridges, but, save for theseizing of the lone knoll, the army of Santa Anna did notyet advance, although in its place it was still fluid withmotion, like the colors of a kaleidoscope. It seemed toPhil that Bill Breakstone's theatrical allusions appliedwith peculiar force. Apparently they were setting thescenes down below, this color here, this color there, somany flags at this point, and so many at that point, bands and trumpets to the right, and bands and trumpetsto the left. It was a spectacle full of life, color, andmovement, but the boy grew very impatient. Greatarmies did not march forward for that purpose, and forthat purpose alone.

"Why don't they attack?" he exclaimed.

"Having the rat in the trap, I suppose that SantaAnna means to play with it a little," replied BillBreakstone. "There's nothing like playing with a deliciousmouse a little while before you eat it."

"Did you ever see anything more hateful than themanner of that fellow de Armijo?" asked Phil. "Hebore himself as if we were already in their hands."

"Doubtless he thought so," said Breakstone, "and itis equally likely that his thought is also the thought ofSanta Anna, Minon, Torrejon, Pacheco, Lombardini, andall the rest. But states of mind are queer things, Phil.You can change your mind, it may change itself, orothers may change it for you. Any one of these thingscan happen to Santa Anna or to your genial young friend,de Armijo."

"It iss well to be patient," said Arenberg.

The sun went on down the heavens. The light camemore obliquely, but it was as brilliant as ever. In twomore hours the sun would be gone behind the mountains, when Phil, still watching the Mexican army, saw a flashof fire near the center of the line. A shell rose, flashedthrough the air, and burst on the plateau held by theAmericans. Phil, despite himself, uttered a shout, andso did many other youthful soldiers. They thought thebattle would now begin. A battery of Mexican howitzersalso opened fire, and the smoke rolled toward the north.The Mexican general, Mejia, on the American right, began to press in, and Ampudia, on the left, threatened withgreat force. But there was not yet any reply from theAmerican line. Old Rough and Ready rode along thewhole battle front, saw that all was in order, and attimes surveyed the Mexican advance through powerfulglasses.

But the Mexican movements were still very slow, andPhil fairly quivered with impatience. If they were goingto fight, he was anxious for the fighting to begin, and tohave it over. Up from the plain came the calls of manybugles, the distant playing of bands, and the beat ofdrums, broken now and then by the irregular dischargesof the cannon and the crackling of rifle shots.

But it was not yet a battle, and the sun was very low, threatening to disappear soon behind the mountains. Itsparting rays lighted up the plateau, the ravines andpromontories, and the pass with a vivid red light. Philsaw the general turn his horse away from the edge of theplateau, as if convinced that there would be no battle, and then suddenly turn him back again, as a great burstof cannon and rifle fire came from the left. Ampudia, having attained a spur of the mountain, was making afierce attack, pushing forward both horse and foot andtrying to get around the American flank. The firing fora little while was rapid. The rifle flashes ran in acontinuous blaze along both lines, and the boom of thecannon came back in hollow echoes from the gorges of theSierra Madre. The black smoke floated in coils andeddies along the ridges and peaks.

Phil and his comrades had nothing to do with thiscombat except to sit still and listen.

"They are merely feeling for a position," said BillBreakstone. "They want a good place from which theycan crash down on our left flank in the morning, but Idon't think they'll get it."

Already the sun was gone in the east, and its rayswere dying on the mountains. Then the night itselfcame down, with the rush of the south, and the firingfrom both cannon and rifles ceased. Ampudia had failedto secure the coveted position, but presently the twoarmies, face to face in the darkness, lay down to rest, save for the thick lines of pickets almost within rifle shotof one another. Once more the night was heavy withchill, but Phil did not feel it now. He and his comradeslooked to their horses and secured places for rest. TheGeneral, still deeply anxious about his rear guard atSaltillo and fearing a flanking movement by Santa Anna, around the mountain, rode back once more to the town, under the escort of Jefferson Davis, leaving the army, asbefore, under command of Wool. In this emergency anofficer past three score showed all the physical energy andendurance of a young man, spending two days and twonights in the saddle.

Phil slept several hours, but he awoke after midnight, and did not go to sleep again. He, Arenberg, andBreakstone were under the immediate command ofMiddleton, who allowed them much latitude, and they usedit for purposes of scouting. They crept through gulliesand ravines and along the edges of the ridges, thedarkness and the stone projections giving them shelter. Theypassed beyond the outermost American pickets, and thenstopped, crouching among some bushes. All three hadheard at the same time low voices of command, the clankof heavy wheels, and the rasping of hoofs over stones.The three also divined the cause, but Breakstone alonespoke of it in a whisper:

"They are dragging artillery up the side of themountain in order that they may rake us to-morrow. ThatSanta Anna calls himself the Napoleon of Mexico, andhe's got some of the quality of the real Napoleon."

By raising up a little they could see the men andhorses with the guns, and they crept back to their owncamp with the news. The American force was too smallto attempt any checking movement in the darkness, andthat night Santa Anna dragged five whole batteries upthe mountainside.

It was about 4 o'clock in the morning when the threereturned from their scout, and they sat down in one of theravines about a small fire of smoldering coals. Some ofthe Kentuckians were with them, including Grayson, andnow and then a brisk word of the coming day was said.In those cold dark hours, when vitality was at its lowest, they were not as confident as they had been. Thenumbers of the Mexicans weighed upon them, and Phil hadnot liked the sight of all those cannon taken up the sideof the mountain. Their talk ceased entirely after awhile, and they sat motionless with their blankets wrappedaround their bodies, because the blasts were very chillnow in the Pass of Angostura. The moaning of the windthrough the gorges was a familiar sound, but to-night itgot upon one's nerves.

Those last few hours were five times their rightfullength, but all things come to an end, and Phil saw inthe east the first narrow band of silver that betokenedthe dawn. Day, like night, in that southern region camefast. The sun shot above the mountain rim, its splendorcame again in a flood, and up rose the two armies.

There was no delay now. On the left the heavybrigades of Ampudia opened fire at once with cannon, muskets, and rifles. They pressed forward, and at thatpoint the American front, also, blazed with fire.

"It's here, Phil," cried Breakstone. "This is thebattle at last!"

Cool as he usually was, he had lost his calm now, andhis eyes glowed with excitement. The rosy face ofArenberg was also flushed a deeper hue than usual.

"They come!" he exclaimed.

The whole Mexican army seemed to lift itself up andadvance in a vast enfolding curve, but Ampudia stillpressed the hardest, endeavoring to crush in the Americanleft, and the five batteries that had been taken up themountainside in the night poured in a heavy fire. Infive minutes a great cloud of smoke from the cannon, rifles, and muskets floated over the field. The Mexicansadvanced with courage and confidence. At dawn SantaAnna had made a great address, riding up and down thelines, and they deemed victory a matter of certainty.