Meanwhile, Phil, in the Pass of Angostura, sitting by a great fire on the second night after the battle, was thinking little of his native land. After the tremendous interruption of Buena Vista, his mind turned again to the object of his search. He read and reread his letter. He thought often of the lava that had cut his brother’s feet and his own. John was sure that they had gone through a pass, and he knew that a woman at a well had given him water. The belief that they were on the trail of those forlorn prisoners was strong within him. And Bill Breakstone and Arenberg believed it, too. "Our army, I understand, will go into quarters in this region," he said, "and will make no further advance by land into Mexico. We enlisted only for this campaign, and I am free to depart. I mean to go at once, boys." "We go with you, of course," said Bill Breakstone. "Good old Hans and I here have already talked it over. There will be no more campaigning in Northern Mexico, and we’ve done our duty. Besides, we’ve got quests of our own that do not lead toward the valley of Mexico." Phil grasped a hand of each and gave it a strong squeeze. "I knew that you would go with me, as I’ll go with you when the time comes," he said. They received their discharge the next morning, and were thanked by General Taylor himself for bravery in battle. Old Rough and Ready put his hand affectionately on Phil’s shoulder. "May good fortune follow you wherever you may be going," he said. "It was such boys as you who won this battle." He also caused them to be furnished with large supplies of ammunition. Middleton could go no farther. He and some other officers were to hurry to Tampico and join Scott for the invasion of Mexico by the way of Vera Cruz. "But boys," he said, "we may meet again. We’ve been good comrades, I think, and circumstances may bring us together a second time when this war is over." "It rests upon the knees of the gods," said Arenberg. "I know it will come true," said the more sanguine Breakstone. "So do I," said Phil. Middleton rode away with his brother officers and a small body of regulars, and Phil, Arenberg, and Breakstone rode southward to Agua Neva. When they had gone some distance they stopped and looked back at the plateau and the pass. "How did we ever do it?" said Phil. "By refusing to stay whipped," replied Arenberg. "By making up our minds to die rather than give up," replied Bill Breakstone. They rode on to the little Mexican town, where Phil had an errand to do. He had talked it over with the other two, and the three had agreed that it was of the utmost importance. All the time a sentence from the letter was running in Phil’s head. Some one murmuring words of pity in Mexican had given him water to drink, and the voice was that of a woman.