Phil ate and drank mechanically almost, although the food gave him new strength without his being conscious of it, and he still watched. The long afternoon waned, the sun passed the zenith, and the colors still shifted and changed on the bare peaks and ridges, but, save for the seizing of the lone knoll, the army of Santa Anna did not yet advance, although in its place it was still fluid with motion, like the colors of a kaleidoscope. It seemed to Phil that Bill Breakstone’s theatrical allusions applied with peculiar force. Apparently they were setting the scenes down below, this color here, this color there, so many flags at this point, and so many at that point, bands and trumpets to the right, and bands and trumpets to the left. It was a spectacle full of life, color, and movement, but the boy grew very impatient. Great armies did not march forward for that purpose, and for that purpose alone. "Why don’t they attack?" he exclaimed. "Having the rat in the trap, I suppose that Santa Anna means to play with it a little," replied Bill Breakstone. "There’s nothing like playing with a delicious mouse a little while before you eat it." "Did you ever see anything more hateful than the manner of that fellow de Armijo?" asked Phil. "He bore himself as if we were already in their hands." "Doubtless he thought so," said Breakstone, "and it is equally likely that his thought is also the thought of Santa Anna, Minon, Torrejon, Pacheco, Lombardini, and all the rest. But states of mind are queer things, Phil. You can change your mind, it may change itself, or others may change it for you. Any one of these things can happen to Santa Anna or to your genial young friend, de Armijo." "It iss well to be patient," said Arenberg. The sun went on down the heavens. The light came more obliquely, but it was as brilliant as ever. In two more hours the sun would be gone behind the mountains, when Phil, still watching the Mexican army, saw a flash of fire near the center of the line. A shell rose, flashed through the air, and burst on the plateau held by the Americans. Phil, despite himself, uttered a shout, and so did many other youthful soldiers. They thought the battle would now begin. A battery of Mexican howitzers also opened fire, and the smoke rolled toward the north. The Mexican general, Mejia, on the American right, began to press in, and Ampudia, on the left, threatened with great force. But there was not yet any reply from the American line. Old Rough and Ready rode along the whole battle front, saw that all was in order, and at times surveyed the Mexican advance through powerful glasses.