De Armijo saluted with all the pride and haughtiness of his race. He would have liked well a few minutes to look about and take note of the enemy’s army for his general, but they had brought him up a narrow ravine, and they allowed him no chance. Now Middleton rode back with him that the Americans might not be lacking in courtesy, and Phil and his comrades again stood by as they passed. De Armijo merely gave them a malignant glance, 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 old Rough and Ready’s reply. Phil watched de Armijo and Middleton riding onward under the white flag toward the gorgeous tent where Santa Anna and his generals were gathered. He saw Middleton disappear and, after awhile, come riding back again. All these demands and refusals, ridings and returns took time, and the two armies meanwhile rested on their arms. The afternoon came, and the sun still blazed on on a scene of peace. For awhile it reminded Phil in many of its aspects of a vast spectacle, a panorama. Then he saw clouds of dust rise on both the east and west wings of the Mexican army. Horsemen moved in columns, fluid sunlight shifting and changing in colors flowing over lances and escopetas. He also saw horses drawing cannon forward, and the bronze and steel of the guns glittered. A little after noon a heavy force of cavalry, led by Ampudia, moved forward toward an advanced knoll held by some of Taylor’s pickets. Phil thought it was the herald of the battle, but the pickets retired after a few shots, and the Mexicans took the knoll, making no attempt to pursue the pickets who fell back quietly on the main army. Then the silence was resumed, although they could see much motion in the Mexican army, the constant movement of horsemen and the shifting of regiments and guns. A multitude of brilliant flags carried here and there fluttered in the wind. But the American army remained motionless, and the soldiers, when they talked, talked mostly in low tones. "Phil, you didn’t eat any breakfast," said Bill Breakstone, "and if I didn’t remind you of it, you would skip dinner. A soldier fights best on a full stomach, and as they’re serving out coffee and bacon and other good things now’s your time." "To tell you the truth, I hadn’t thought of it," said the boy. "Well, think of it, Sir Philip of the Spectacle and the Panorama. It isn’t often that you’ll have a chance to sit on a front seat in an open air theater like this, and see deploying before you an army of twenty thousand men, meaning business."