They did not move or speak until they heard the hoof-beats die away, and then it was Bill Breakstone who first broke the silence. "That certainly came out well," he said. "The curtain came down on a finer finish than the first act indicated. I confess that I didn’t know your plan, Captain--I don’t call you Cap any more--but I trusted you, and I confess, also, that I fell asleep. It was you and Sir Philip of the Active Mind and the Watchful Eye who did most of the work. "It was in Tex. We met the Mex. They spoke so high, But now they cry. Or, at least, they ought to cry when they think how we turned the tables on them. Now, Captain, I suppose we must be up and doing, for those fellows, as you said, will go straight to the Comanches, and if we linger here our scalps will be of less value to ourselves than to anybody else." "It is quite true," said Captain Middleton. "We must reach the train as soon as possible, because the danger to it has increased with our own. But even more important than that is the great change that must be made. Woodfall cannot go on now, since the whole Southwest will be swept by bands of Mexican and Indian horsemen." "What must the train do?" asked Phil in anxiety, because this concerned him very nearly. "It must turn south and join the American army on the Rio Grande. Most of the things that it carries will be of value to our troops, and Woodfall will clear as much profit there as at Santa Fé, which is now a city in arms against us. In this case the path of comparative safety and honor is also the path of profit. What more could Woodfall ask?" "He’s a brave man, and brave men are with him," said Bill Breakstone. "You won’t have to ask him twice." Phil’s heart had throbbed with joy at Middleton’s answer. His quest was always in his mind. He had feared that they might turn back, but now it suited him as well to join the American army as to go on toward Santa Fé. The quest was a wide one. But Arenberg suppressed a sigh. "Let’s be starting," said Middleton. "We’ll take their arms with us. They’re of value, and Bill, moreover, is without a rifle or musket." Breakstone, who had been examining the weapons, uttered a cry of joy. "Here is a fine rifle," he said, "one of the best American make. I wonder how that Mexican got it! The rest are not so good." "Take the fine one, Bill," said Middleton, "and we will pack up the rest and ride." They were out of the woods in a few minutes, and again rode rapidly toward the west. It was an easy task to pick up the great wagon trail again, even in the dark of the night, as the grass and soil were trodden or pressed down over a width of fully two hundred yards. The country rolled lightly. Bill Breakstone thought that a range of hills lay toward the north, but in the night they could not see.