The horse recognized Phil and neighed. Phil put his hand upon his mane and stroked it. He was very glad that this comrade of his had escaped unhurt. He wondered in a dim way what his terror must have been tied in one place, while the battle raged all day about him. "Poor old horse," he said, stroking his mane again. Then he led him away, gave him food and water, and returned to his comrades and the field. He knew that his duty lay there, as the Mexican army was still at hand. Many thought that it would attack again in the morning, and disposition for defense must be made. He did not see either Breakstone or Arenberg, but he met Middleton, to whom he reported. "Scout down at the mouth of the pass and along the mountain slopes, Phil," he said, and the boy, replenishing his ammunition, obeyed. It was not quite dark, and the wind was exceedingly cold. The mercury that night went below the freezing point, and the sufferings of the wounded were intense. Phil kept well among the ravines and crags. He believed that the Mexican lancers would be prowling in front of their camp, and he would not have much chance if he were attacked by a group of them. Moreover, he was tired of fighting. He did not wish to hurt anybody. Never had his soul inclined more fervently to peace. He passed again into the gorge which had witnessed the climax and deadliest part of the battle. Here he saw dark-robed figures passing back and forth among the wounded. He looked more closely and saw that they were Mexican nuns from a convent near Buena Vista, helping the wounded, Americans and Mexicans alike. Something rose in his throat, but he went on, crossing the pass and climbing the slopes of the Sierra Madre. Here there was yet smoke lingering in the nooks and crannies, but all the riflemen seemed to have gone. He climbed higher. The wind there was very cold, but the moonlight was brighter. He saw the peaks and ridges of the Sierra Madre, like a confused sea, and he looked down upon the two camps, the small American one on the plateau and in the pass and the larger, still far larger, Mexican one below. He could trace it by the lights in the Mexican camp, forming a great half circle, and he would have given much to know what was going on there. If Santa Anna and his men possessed the courage and tenacity of the defenders, they would attack again on the morrow.