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

CHAPTER XV
THE WOMAN AT THE WELL

Phil was still in a daze. He and those around him, exhausted by such long and desperate efforts, sucha continuous roar in their ears, and such avariation of intense emotions from the highest to the lowest, were scarcely conscious that the battle was over. Theyknew, indeed, that night was falling on the mountainsand the pass, that the Mexicans had withdrawn from thefield, that their flags and lances were fading in thetwilight, but it was all, for a little while, dim and vague tothem. The night and the silence coming togethercontained a great awe. Phil felt the blood pounding in hisears, and he looked around with wonder. It wasBreakstone who first came to himself.

"We've won! We've won!" he cried. "As sure asthere is a sun behind those mountains, we've beat allMexico!"

Then Phil, too, saw, and he had to believe.

"The victory is ours!" he cried.

"It is ours, but harm has been done," said Arenbergin a low voice. Then he sank forward softly on hisface. Phil and Breakstone quickly raised him up. Hehad fainted from loss of blood, but as his wounds wereonly of the flesh he was soon revived. Breakstone hadthree slight wounds of his own, and these were bound up, also. Phil, meanwhile, was hunting in the gorge for otherfriends. Grayson was alive and well, but some that hehad known were gone. He was weak, mind and bodyalike, with the relaxation from the long battle and allthose terrible emotions, but he helped with the wounded.Below them lay the army of Santa Anna, its lightsshining again in the darkness, and, for all Phil knew, itmight attack again on the morrow, but he gave littleattention to it now. His whole concern was for hiscomrades. The victory had been won, but they had beencompelled to purchase it at a great price. The losseswere heavy. Twenty-eight officers of rank were amongthe killed, regiments were decimated, and even theunhurt were so exhausted that they could scarcely stand.

Phil sat down at the edge of the gorge. He was yetfaint and dizzy. It seemed to him that he would neverbe able to exert himself again. Everything swam beforehim in a sort of confused glare. He was conscious thathis clothing was stained red in two or three places, butwhen he looked, in a mechanical way, at the wounds, hesaw they were scratches, closed already by the processesof nature. Then his attention wandered again to the field.He was full of the joy of victory, but it was a vague, uncertain feeling, not attaching itself to any particularthing.

The twilight had already sunk into the night, and theblack wind, heavy with chill, moaned in the Pass ofAngostura. It was a veritable dirge for the dead. Phil feltit all through his relaxed frame, and shivered both withcold and with awe. Smoke and vapor from so muchfiring still floated about the plateau, the pass, and theslopes, but there was a burning touch on his face whichhe knew did not come from any of them. It was the dustof the desert again stinging him after the battle as it haddone before it. He obeyed its call, summoned anew allhis strength, both of body and mind, and climbed out ofthe gorge, where friend and foe still lay in hundreds, mingled and peaceful in death.

He found more light and cheer on the plateau and inthe pass. Here the unhurt and those hurt slightly werebuilding fires, and they had begun to cook food and boilcoffee. Phil suddenly perceived that he was hungry. Hehad not tasted food since morning. He joined one of thegroups, ate and drank, and more vigor returned. Thenhe thought of the horse which he had left tethered in analcove, and which he had not used at all that day. Thehorse was there unharmed, although a large cannon-balllay near his feet. It was evidently a spent ball whichhad rolled down the side of the mountain, as it was notburied at all.

The horse recognized Phil and neighed. Phil put hishand upon his mane and stroked it. He was very gladthat this comrade of his had escaped unhurt. Hewondered in a dim way what his terror must have been tiedin one place, while the battle raged all day about him."Poor old horse," he said, stroking his mane again.Then he led him away, gave him food and water, andreturned to his comrades and the field. He knew that hisduty lay there, as the Mexican army was still at hand.Many thought that it would attack again in the morning, and disposition for defense must be made. He did notsee either Breakstone or Arenberg, but he met Middleton,to whom he reported.

"Scout down at the mouth of the pass and along themountain slopes, Phil," he said, and the boy, replenishinghis ammunition, obeyed. It was not quite dark, andthe wind was exceedingly cold. The mercury that nightwent below the freezing point, and the sufferings of thewounded were intense. Phil kept well among the ravinesand crags. He believed that the Mexican lancers wouldbe prowling in front of their camp, and he would nothave much chance if he were attacked by a group ofthem. Moreover, he was tired of fighting. He did notwish to hurt anybody. Never had his soul inclined morefervently to peace.

He passed again into the gorge which had witnessedthe climax and deadliest part of the battle. Here he sawdark-robed figures passing back and forth among thewounded. He looked more closely and saw that theywere Mexican nuns from a convent near Buena Vista, helping the wounded, Americans and Mexicans alike.Something rose in his throat, but he went on, crossingthe pass and climbing the slopes of the Sierra Madre.Here there was yet smoke lingering in the nooks andcrannies, but all the riflemen seemed to have gone.

He climbed higher. The wind there was very cold, butthe moonlight was brighter. He saw the peaks andridges of the Sierra Madre, like a confused sea, and helooked down upon the two camps, the small American oneon the plateau and in the pass and the larger, still farlarger, Mexican one below. He could trace it by thelights in the Mexican camp, forming a great half circle, and he would have given much to know what was goingon there. If Santa Anna and his men possessed thecourage and tenacity of the defenders, they would attackagain on the morrow.

He moved forward a little to get a better view, andthen sank down behind an outcropping of rock. A Mexican,a tall man, rifle on shoulder, was passing. He, too, was looking down at the two camps, and Phil believedthat he was a scout like himself. The Mexican, notsuspecting the presence of an enemy, was only a dozen feetaway, and Phil could easily have shot him withoutdanger to himself, but every impulse was against the deed.He could not fire from ambush, and he had seen enoughof death. The Mexican was going toward his own camp, and presently, he went on, disappearing behind a curveof the mountain, and leaving Phil without a shadow ofremorse. But he soon followed, creeping on down themountainside toward the camp of Santa Anna.

The rocks and gullies enabled him to come so nearthat he could see within the range of light. He beheldfigures as they passed now and then, dark shadows beforethe blaze, but the camp of Santa Anna did not show thelife and animation that he had witnessed in it when hespied upon it once before. No bugles were blowing, nobodies of lancers, with the firelight shining on glitteringsteel, rode forth to prepare for the morrow and victory.Everything was slack and relaxed. He even saw menlying in hundreds upon the ground, fast asleep fromexhaustion. As far as he could determine, no scoutingparties of large size were abroad, and he inferred fromwhat he saw that the Mexican army was worn out.

He could not go among those men, but the general effectproduced upon him at the distance was of gloom anddespair among them. An army preparing for battle inthe morning would be awake and active. The longer helooked, the greater became his own hope and confidence, and then he slowly made his way back to his own campwith his report. Lights still burned there, but it wasvery silent. After he passed the ring of sentinels he sawnothing but men stretched out, almost as still as the deadaround them. They slept deeply, heavily, a sleep sointense that a blow would not arouse. Many had lain downwhere they were standing when the battle ceased, andwould lie there in dreamless slumber until the nextmorning. Phil stepped over them, and near one of the fireshe saw Breakstone and Arenberg, each with his head onhis arm, deep in slumber.

He made his report to Middleton, describing withvivid detail everything that he had seen.

"It agrees with the reports of the other scouts," saidMiddleton. "I think the enemy is so shattered that hecannot move upon us again, and now, Phil, you mustrest. It will be midnight in an hour, and you havepassed through much."

"It was a great battle!" said Phil, with a look ofpride.

"And a great victory!" said Middleton, he, too, although older, feeling that flash of pride.

Phil was glad enough now to seek sleep. The nervousexcitement that kept him awake and alert was all gone.He remembered the fire beside which Bill Breakstone andArenberg slept, and made his way back there. Neitherhad moved a particle. They still lay with their heads ontheir elbows, and they drew long, deep breaths with suchsteadiness and regularity that apparently they had madeup their minds to sleep for years to come. Four othermen lay near them in the same happy condition.

"Six," said Phil. "Well, the fable tells of the SevenSleepers, so I might as well complete the number."

He chose the best place that was left, secured hisblanket from his saddlebow, wrapped himself thoroughlyin it, and lay down with his feet to the fire. Howglorious it felt! It was certainly very cold in the Pass ofAngostura. Ice was forming, and the wind cut, butthere was the fire at his feet and the thick blanket aroundhim. His body felt warm through and through, and thehard earth was like down after such a day. Now victorycame, too, with its pleasantest aroma. Lying thereunder the stars, he could realize, in its great sense, allthat they had done. And he had borne his manly part init. He was a boy, and he had reason for pride.

Phil stared up for a little while at the cold stars whichdanced in the sky, myriads of miles away, but afterawhile his glance turned again toward the earth. Theother six of the seven sleepers slept on, not stirring at all, save for the rising and falling of their chests, and Phildecided that he was neglecting his duty by failing to jointhem at once in that vague and delightful land to whichthey had gone.

He shut his eyes, opened them once a minute or twolater, but found the task of holding up the lids too heavy.They shut down again, stayed down, and in two minutesthe six sleepers had become the seven.

Phil slept the remainder of the night as heavily as ifhe had been steeped in some eastern drug. He, too, neither moved hand nor foot after he had once gone tooblivion. The fire burned out, but he did not awake.He was warm in his blanket, and sleep was bringing backthe strength that body and mind had wasted in the day.It was quiet, too, on the battlefield. The surgeons stillworked with the wounded, but they had been taken backin the shelter of the pass, and the sounds did not come tothose on the plateau. Only the wind moaned incessantly, and the cold was raw and bitter.

About half way between midnight and morning BillBreakstone awoke. He merely opened his eyes, notmoving his body, but he stared about him in a dim wonder.His awakening had interrupted a most extraordinarydream. He had been dreaming that he was in a battlethat had lasted at least a month, and was not yetfinished. Red strife and its fierce emotions were stillbefore him when he awoke. Now he gazed all around, andsaw only blackness, with a few points of light here andthere.

His eyes, growing used to the darkness, came back, and he saw six stiff figures stretched on the ground in arow, three on each side of him. He looked at themfixedly and saw that they were the figures of humanbeings. Moreover, he recognized two of them, and theywere his best friends. Then he remembered all about thebattle, the great struggle, how the terrible crisis cameagain and again, how the victory finally was won, andhe was glad that these two friends of his were alive, though they seemed to be sleeping as men never sleptbefore.

Breakstone sat up and looked at the six sleepers. Theblankets of two of them had shifted a little, and he pulledthem back around their necks. Then he glanced downthe valley where the lights of Santa Anna's armyflickered, and it all seemed wonderful, unbelievable to him.Yet it was true. They had beaten off an army of morethan twenty thousand men, and had inflicted upon SantaAnna a loss far greater than their own. He murmuredvery softly:

 
"Dreadful was the fight,
Welcome is the night;
Fiercely came the foe,
Many we laid low;
Backward he is sent,
But we, too, are spent.
 

I believe that's about as true a poem as I evercomposed," he said, "whatever others may think about therhyme and meter, and to be true is to be right. Thatwork well done, I'll go back to sleep again."

He lay down once more and, within a minute, he kepthis word. Phil and his comrades were awakened just atthe break of day by Middleton. Only a narrow streak oflight was to be seen over the eastern ridges, but theCaptain explained that he wanted them to go on a little scouttoward the Mexican army. They joined him withwillingness and went down the southern edge of the plateau.A few lights could be seen at the points that Phil hadmarked during the night, and they approached verycautiously. But they saw no signs of life. There were nopatrols, no cavalry, none of the stir of a great army, nothing to indicate any human presence, until they cameupon wounded men, abandoned upon the rugged groundwhere they lay. When Phil and his comrades, beliefturned into certainty, rushed forward, Santa Anna andhis whole army were gone, leaving behind them theirdead and desperately wounded. Tents, supplies, andsome arms were abandoned in the swift retreat, but thearmy itself had already disappeared under the southernhorizon, leaving the field of Buena Vista to the victors.

They hurried back with the news. It spread like firethrough the army. Every man who could stand was onhis feet. A mighty cheer rolled through the Pass ofAngostura, and the dark gorges and ravines of the SierraMadre gave it back in many echoes.

The victory, purchased at so great a price, was complete.Mounted scouts, sent out, returned in the course ofthe day with the information that Santa Anna had notstopped at Agua Neva. He was marching southward asfast as he could, and there was no doubt that he wouldnot stop until he reached the City of Mexico, where hewould prepare to meet the army of Scott, which was tocome by the way of Vera Cruz. The greatness of theirvictory did not dawn upon the Americans until then.Not only had they beaten back a force that outnumberedthem manifold, but all Northern Mexico lay at the feet ofTaylor. The war there was ended, and it was for Scottto finish it in the Valley of Mexico.

The following night the fires were built high on theplateau and in the Pass of Angostura. Nearly everybodyrested except the surgeons, who still worked. Hundredsof the Mexican wounded had been left on the field, andthey received the same attention that was bestowed uponthe Americans. Nevertheless, the boy soldiers werecheerful. They knew that the news of their wonderfulvictory was speeding north, and they felt that they hadserved their country well.

Phil did not know until long afterward that at homethe army of Taylor had been given up as lost. Newsthat Santa Anna was in front of him with an overwhelmingforce had filtered through, and then had come thelong blank. Nothing was heard. It was supposed thatTaylor had been destroyed or captured. It was knownthat his force was composed almost wholly of youngvolunteers, boys, and no chance of escape seemed possible.

In the West and South, in Kentucky, Illinois, Indiana,Arkansas, and Mississippi, the anxiety was mosttense and painful. There, nearly every district had sentsome one to Buena Vista, and they sought in vain fornews. There were dark memories of the Alamo andGoliad, especially in the Southwest, and these peoplethought of the disaster as in early days they thought of adefeat by the Indians, when there were no wounded orprisoners, only slain.

But even the nearest states were separated from Mexicoby a vast wilderness, and, as time passed and nothingcame, belief settled into certainty. The force of Taylorhad been destroyed. Then the messenger arrived literallyfrom the black depths with the news of the unbelievablevictory. Taylor was not destroyed. He had beatenan army that outnumbered him five to one. The littleAmerican force held the Pass of Angostura, and SantaAnna, with his shattered army, was flying southward. Atfirst it was not believed. It was incredible, but othermessengers came with the same news, and then one coulddoubt no longer. The victory struck so powerfully uponthe imagination of the American people that it carriedTaylor into the White House.

Meanwhile, Phil, in the Pass of Angostura, sitting bya great fire on the second night after the battle, wasthinking little of his native land. After the tremendousinterruption of Buena Vista, his mind turned again tothe object of his search. He read and reread his letter.He thought often of the lava that had cut his brother'sfeet and his own. John was sure that they had gonethrough a pass, and he knew that a woman at a well hadgiven him water. The belief that they were on the trailof those forlorn prisoners was strong within him. AndBill Breakstone and Arenberg believed it, too.

"Our army, I understand, will go into quarters in thisregion," he said, "and will make no further advance byland into Mexico. We enlisted only for this campaign, and I am free to depart. I mean to go at once, boys."

"We go with you, of course," said Bill Breakstone."Good old Hans and I here have already talked it over.There will be no more campaigning in Northern Mexico, and we've done our duty. Besides, we've got questsof our own that do not lead toward the valley of Mexico."

Phil grasped a hand of each and gave it a strongsqueeze.

"I knew that you would go with me, as I'll go withyou when the time comes," he said.

They received their discharge the next morning, andwere thanked by General Taylor himself for bravery inbattle. Old Rough and Ready put his hand affectionatelyon Phil's shoulder.

"May good fortune follow you wherever you may begoing," he said. "It was such boys as you who wonthis battle."

He also caused them to be furnished with largesupplies of ammunition. Middleton could go no farther.He and some other officers were to hurry to Tampico andjoin Scott for the invasion of Mexico by the way of VeraCruz.

"But boys," he said, "we may meet again. We'vebeen good comrades, I think, and circumstances maybring us together a second time when this war is over."

"It rests upon the knees of the gods," said Arenberg.

"I know it will come true," said the more sanguineBreakstone.

"So do I," said Phil.

Middleton rode away with his brother officers and asmall body of regulars, and Phil, Arenberg, andBreakstone rode southward to Agua Neva. When they hadgone some distance they stopped and looked back at theplateau and the pass.

"How did we ever do it?" said Phil.

"By refusing to stay whipped," replied Arenberg.

"By making up our minds to die rather than giveup," replied Bill Breakstone.

They rode on to the little Mexican town, where Philhad an errand to do. He had talked it over with theother two, and the three had agreed that it was of theutmost importance. All the time a sentence from the letterwas running in Phil's head. Some one murmuring wordsof pity in Mexican had given him water to drink, and thevoice was that of a woman.

"It must have been from a well," said Phil, "this isa dry country with water mostly from wells, and aroundthese wells villages usually grow. Bill, we must be onthe right track. I can't believe that we're going wrong."

"The signs certainly point the way we're thinking,"said Bill Breakstone. "The lava, the dust, and thewater. We've passed the lava and the dust, and we knowthat the water is before us."

They came presently to Agua Neva, a somber littletown, now reoccupied by a detachment from Taylor'sarmy. The people were singularly quiet and subdued.The defeat of Santa Anna by so small a force and hisprecipitate flight made an immense impression upon them, and, as they suffered no ill treatment from the conquerors, they did not seek to make trouble. There was nosharpshooting in the dark, no waylaying of a few horsemen byguerillas, and the three could pursue without hesitationthe inquiry upon which they were bent.

Wells! Wells! Of course there were wells in AguaNeva. Several of them, and the water was very fine.Would the señors taste it? They would, and they passedfrom one well to another until they drank from them all.Breakstone could speak Spanish, and its Mexican variations, and he began to ask questions-chance ones at first, something about the town and its age, and the things thathe had seen. Doubtless in the long guerilla war betweenTexas and Mexico, captives, the fierce Texans, had passedthrough there on their way to strong prisons in the south.Such men had passed more than once, but the people ofAgua Neva did not remember any particular one amongthem. They spent a day thus in vain, and Phil, gloomyand discouraged, rode back to the quarters of theAmerican detachment.

"Don't be downhearted, Phil," said Breakstone."In a little place like this one must soon pick up thetrail. It will not be hard to get at the gossip. We'll tryagain to-morrow."

They did not go horseback the next morning, not wishingto attract too much attention, but strolled about thewells again, Breakstone talking to the women in the mostingratiating manner. He was a handsome fellow, thisBreakstone, and he had a smile that women liked. Theydid not frown upon him at Agua Neva because hebelonged to the enemy, but exchanged a gay word or twowith him, Spanish or Mexican banter as he passed on.

They came to a well at which three women were drawingwater for the large jars that they carried on theirheads, and these were somewhat unlike the others. Theywere undoubtedly of Indian blood, Aztec perhaps, or morelikely Toltec. They were tall for Mexican women, and itseemed to Phil that they bore themselves with a certainerectness and pride. Their faces were noble and good.

Phil and his comrades drew near. He saw the womenglance at them, and he saw the youngest of them look athim several times. She stared with a vague sort ofwonder in her eyes, and Phil's heart suddenly began to poundso hard that he grew dizzy. Since the letter, coming outof the unknown and traveling such a vast distance, hadfound him in the little town of Paris, Kentucky, he hadfelt at times the power of intuition. Truths burstsuddenly upon him, and for the moment he had theconviction that this was the woman. Moreover, she was stilllooking at him.

"Speak to her, Bill! Speak to her!" he exclaimed."Don't let her go until you ask her."

But Breakstone had already noticed the curiousglances the woman was casting at Phil, and in theSpanish patois of the region he bade them a light andcourteous good morning. Here all the charm of Breakstone'smanner showed at its very best. No one could takeoffense at it, and the three women, smiling, replied in asimilar vein. Breakstone understood Phil's agitation.The boy might be right, but he did not intend to be tooheadlong. He must fence and approach the subjectgradually. So he spoke of the little things that makeconversation, but presently he said to the youngest of thewomen:

"I see that you notice my comrade, the one who isnot yet a man in years, though a man in size. Does itchance that you have seen some one like him?"

"I do not know," replied the woman. "I am lookinginto my memory that I may see."

"Perhaps," said Breakstone smoothly, "it was one ofthe Texan prisoners whom they brought through here twoor three years ago. A boy, tall and fair like this boy, but dusty with the march, bent with weariness, his feetcut and bleeding by the lava over which he had beenforced to march, stood here at this well. He wasblindfolded that he might not see which way he had come, butyou, the Holy Virgin filling your heart with pity, tookthe cup of cool water and gave it to him to drink."

Comprehension filled the eyes of the woman, and shegazed at Breakstone with growing wonder.

"It is so!" she exclaimed. "I remember now. Itwas three years ago. There was a band of prisoners, twelve or fifteen, maybe, but he was the youngest of themall, and so worn, so weak! I could not see his eyes, buthe had the figure and manner of the youth who standsthere! It was why I looked, and then looked again, theresemblance that I could not remember."

"It is his brother who is with me," said Breakstone."Can you tell where these prisoners were taken?"

"I do not know, but I have heard that they were carriedinto the mountains to the south and west, where theywere to be held until Texas was brought back to Mexico,or to be put to death as outlaws."

"What prisons lie in these mountains to the southand west?"

"I do not know how many, but we have heard most ofthe Castle of Montevideo. Some of our own people havegone there, never to come back."

She and her companions shuddered at the name of theCastle of Montevideo. It seemed to have some vague, mysterious terror for them. It was now Bill Breakstonewho had the intuition. The Castle of Montevideo wasthe place. It was there that they had taken John Bedford.He translated clearly for Phil, who became very pale.

"It is the place, Phil," he said. "We must go tothe Castle of Montevideo to find him."

He drew from his pocket a large octagonal gold piece, worth fifty dollars, then coined by the United States.

"Give this to her, Bill," he said, "and tell her it isfor the drink of water that she gave to the blindfoldedboy three years ago."

Bill Breakstone translated literally, and he added:

"You must take it. It comes from his heart. It isnot only worth much money, but it will be a bringer ofluck to you."

She took it, hesitated a moment, then hid it underher red reboso, and, the jars being filled, she and hertwo companions walked away, balancing the great weightsbeautifully on their heads.

"To-night," said Phil, "we ride for the Castle of Montevideo."