"Those are the lights of the train," he said. "They undoubtedly have scouts out, and of course they have seen the signals of the Comanches and the Mexicans, just as we have, but they do not know as much as we do. I think we had better go down the arroyo as far as we can, and then, if the alarm is sounded by our enemies, gallop for it." "It iss our choice because there iss none other," said Arenberg. They continued, but more slowly, in order to make as little noise as possible. They had covered more than half the distance when Phil saw a faint line of gray on the horizon line in the east. The next moment against the background of gray appeared a horseman, a man of olive skin, clad in sombrero, bright jacket, embroidered trousers, and boots with great spurs. He carried a weapon like a spear, and Phil knew at once that he was a Mexican lancer, no doubt a sentinel. The man saw them, and, instead of attempting to use his lance, snatched a pistol from his belt and fired point blank. The bullet passed by Middleton’s face, and, like a flash, Bill Breakstone replied with a bullet from his rifle. The Mexican went down, but from three points of the compass came cries, the shouts of the Mexicans and the long war whoop of the Comanches. "Forward for your lives!" cried Middleton, and, dashing out of the arroyo, they galloped at full speed toward the wagon train. CHAPTER IX THE FIERY CIRCLE The thin gray light in the east broadened into a bar as the hoofbeats of the four thundered over the plain. From left to right came shouts, the yells of the Indians and the fierce cries of the Mexicans. "Bend low," cried Middleton, "and we may escape their bullets!" Phil lay almost upon his horse’s neck, but it was an unconscious act. He was thrilling with excitement, as the four horsemen almost clove the morning mist, and rode on swift hoofs straight toward the wagon train. Then came the rattling of rifles and whistling of arrows from either side. "Ping!" the bullets sang in his ear and "Ping!" the arrows sang, also. He remembered afterward that he wished, if he were hit at all, to be hit by a bullet instead of an arrow; an arrow sticking in one’s flesh would be very cumbersome and painful. But neither arrow nor bullet struck true. Their ride was too sudden and swift, and the light too faint to permit good aim to the Mexicans and Comanches. Yet Phil heard confused sounds, shouted commands, and the noise of hurrying feet. He saw dark faces appearing in the mist on either side, and he also saw the outlines of wagons through the same mist in front. Then he saw men, rifle in hand, who seemed to rise out of the plain in front of the wagons. Two of the men raised their rifles and took aim at the galloping horsemen. "We are friends, and we bring you warning!" shouted Middleton in a tremendous voice. "Don’t fire upon us!"