"Phil Bedford, by all that’s wonderful!" he exclaimed. "I didn’t think that you and I would ever meet in Mexico, but when the call came I couldn’t keep away!" Then he lowered his tone and asked: "Any news of John?" Phil shook his head sadly. "Not a thing," he replied, "but I’m going to find him!" "I believe you will," said Harrington, "but your search is going to be delayed, Phil. You’ll have to wait for something else that none of us will ever forget. But, Phil, you’ve landed among friends. Lots of the boys that you used to know in Paris and around there are here." As Phil rode on, the truth of Harrington’s words was confirmed. Tan and dust did not keep strong, hearty voices from hailing him. "Hey, you, Phil Bedford, where did you come from?" "Is that old Phil Bedford? Did he drop from the clouds?" "Here, Phil, shake hands with an old friend!" He saw more than a score of familiar faces. A number of these soldiers were almost as young as himself, and two or three of them were related to him by blood. He had a great sensation of home, an overpowering feeling of delight. Despite strangeness and distance, old friends and kindred were around him. But old friends did not make him forget his new friends, or think any less of them. He introduced Middleton, Bill Breakstone, and Arenberg. Middleton was compelled to hurry to General Taylor with his report, but the other two remained and affiliated thoroughly. "You camp with us," said Dick Grayson, a distant cousin of Phil’s. "We’ve got a fine place over here, just back of the plaza. Lots of Kentuckians here, Phil--in fact, more from our state than any other. The rest are mostly from Illinois, Indiana, Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana. We haven’t got many regulars, but we’ve got mighty good artillery, and we’re ready to give a good account of ourselves against anybody. You ought to see old Rough and Ready. He’s as grim as you please. Just as soon bite a ten-penny nail in two as not. Mad clean through, and I don’t blame him, because he’s been robbed to strengthen Scott." Phil and his comrades went readily with Grayson. The wagon train was already scattering through the encampment, the volunteers taking their places here and there, while Woodfall and his associates were arranging for the sale of their available supplies. Phil, Breakstone, and Arenberg owned their horses, and, leading them with the bridles over their arms, they walked along with their new friends. Phil noticed that the town was well built in the Mexican style, with many handsome houses and signs of prosperity. The American invaders had harmed nothing, but their encampment was spread throughout the city.