Lieutenant Blenks had already been placed in command of the camp, and the captain gave the order for Lieutenant Gadbury to have his men in marching order at once; and twenty men from the second platoon were added to their number. But Deck and Artie did not wait for this body to move, but started at once on their return; for they were anxious to be present in any engagement that might take place. They had little compassion for their horses, fond as they were of them, and dashed down the road at their best speed. "Hi!" exclaimed Artie, as they reached the cross-road. "What is it, Artie?" asked Deck, who was looking to the right. "Don't you see? There are a couple of mounted men wearing the gray!" exclaimed Artie with energy. "What are they?" asked Deck. "What are they? It is as plain as a stone wall to a blind man after he has stumbled over it, that they are the Texans who are expected over here." "Are there only two of them?" asked Deck facetiously. "Your head is level, Artie, and they are a couple of scouts who are feeling the way for a bigger body further back." [Illustration: "One of the Texans tumbled from his horse."] Just at that moment a bullet whistled between the two boys; for the scouts could have no difficulty in making out the uniform of the two messengers. Both of them unslung their carbines; and, without considering what consequences might ensue, both of them fired, Artie delivering the first shot. One of the Texans tumbled from his horse, and Deck aimed at the other; but he was less fortunate in his discharge, for the remaining man still clung to his horse. Raising his carbine, he fired. "I am hit," said Deck, as he held up his left arm. The man who had delivered his fire wheeled his horse as soon as he had done so, and galloped back by the way he came. CHAPTER X THE BATTLE BEGUN AT THE CROSS-ROADS Deck and Artie Lyon were not veterans in military service; but on several occasions during the preceding six months they had been within the reach of flying bullets. They had not become hardened to the whizzing, boring sound they make in their passage through the air, for they carried wounds and death in their train; but they had considered and talked about the chances of being hit, and fully realized the possible consequences. "We are in the hands of the good Lord," Noah Lyon used to say; "and if it be his will that we suddenly pass the portals that divide the seen from the unseen, or that we languish for weeks or months upon the couch of pain, we can only submit to the divine will; and all we have to do is faithfully to discharge our duty to God and our country. God and our country! Let this be our watchword, boys; and with it on our tongues and in our hearts, we ought to fear no danger."