"So have I. But the night is cold, though. Now we’re always thinking of warm weather in Mexico, but we never find a country what we expect it to be. Ah, we’re leaving the road. The Captain must think there is something not far ahead." They turned at a sharp angle from the road, and entered a thin forest. Phil looked back toward the mouth of the pass from which they had come. Everything there was behind an impenetrable black veil. The last point of fire had died, and the mountains themselves were hidden. But he took only a single backward look. The wind of the desert was still stinging his face, and it seemed to arouse him to uncommon fire and energy. His whole attention was concentrated upon their task, and he was eager to distinguish himself in some way. But he neither heard nor saw anything unusual. They proceeded slowly through the forest, seeking to prevent all but the least possible noise, and came presently to a field in which Indian corn seemed to have grown. But it was bare now, save for the dead stalks that lay upon the ground, and here the troop spread out, riding almost in a single line. It was Phil, keen of eye and watchful, who first saw a dim red tint under the far southern horizon, and he at once called Middleton’s attention. The Captain halted them instantly, and his gaze followed the line of Phil’s pointing finger. "It is Santa Anna’s army," he said, "and you, Phil, have the honor of locating it first. The dim band of light which you pointed out is made by their camp fires, which are many. We need not try to conceal that fact from ourselves." "We take a nearer view, do we not, Captain?" asked Bill Breakstone. "Of course," replied Middleton, "but be cautious, all of you. It is important to see, but it is equally important to get back to General Taylor with the tale our eyes may tell." They rode forward again in a long and silent line. Phil’s heart began to throb. The desert wind was still stinging his face with the fine impalpable dust that seemed to excite every nerve. As they advanced, the red tint on the southern horizon broadened and deepened. It was apparent that it stretched far to east and west. "It iss a great army, and it means much harm," said Arenberg softly, more to himself than to anybody else. Nearer and nearer rode the bold horsemen, stopping often to watch for the Mexican lancers who would surely be in advance of the army, beating up the country, despite the darkness, but they did not yet see any. They rode on so far that they heard the occasional sound of a trumpet in the Mexican camp, and the fires no longer presented a solid line. "Captain," asked Bill Breakstone, "what do you think the sound of those trumpets means at an hour like this?"