Joseph Altsheler - The Quest of the Four - A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

"Here, Phil, drink this," said Bill Breakstone, handinghim a cup of hot coffee. "It has been a pretty hardday on the nerves, and you need a stimulant."

Phil swallowed it all, almost at a draught-never hadcoffee tasted better-and his strength came back rapidly.Breakstone, also, drank a cup and sat down beside theboy.

"Here comes Arenberg," he said in a low tone to Phil."That German was a very demon to-day. He got rightinto the front of the charge, and after his rifle was emptyhe clubbed it and brought down one of the Comanches."

Phil looked up. Arenberg's face was still set in astern, pitiless mask, but when his eyes caught the boy'she relaxed.

"It iss a good day well spent," he said, throwinghimself down by the side of the two. "We never couldhave forced the ford if we had not made that flankmovement. Harm wass meant by both sides and harm wassdone. But it iss over now. How does the young HerrPhilip feel?"

"Pretty good now," replied Phil, "but I've had myups and downs, I can tell you. A little while ago I feltas if there were no backbone in me at all."

Food was now cooked, and, after eating, the threerelapsed into silence. Presently Middleton, also, joinedthem, and told them that very thorough preparations hadbeen made to guard against a surprise. Sentinels onhorseback were already far out on the plain, riding awatchful round which would be continued all through thenight.

"It is easy to guard against surprise on that side,"said Middleton, "but snipers may creep down the riverbank in the timber. We must keep our best watchthere."

"I'll go on duty," said Philip promptly.

"Not yet," replied Middleton. "You may beneeded late in the night, in which case we'll call on you, but our most experienced borderers don't think theComanches will come back."

"You can never trust them," said Arenberg earnestly.

"We don't mean to," said Middleton. "Now, Phil,I'd advise you to wrap yourself in your blanket and go tosleep. On a campaign it's always advisable to sleepwhen you're off duty, because you never know when youwill get the chance again."

It seemed to Phil that it was impossible to sleep, afterso much excitement and danger, but he knew thatMiddleton was speaking wise words, and he resolved to try.There were yet hours of daylight, but, putting his blanketbeneath him, he lay before one of the fires with his armunder his head and closed his eyes. He would openthem now and then to see the yellow flames, the figures ofthe men moving back and forth, and the circle of wagonsbeyond. He could not make himself feel sleepy, but heknew that his nerves were relaxing. Physically he felt asoothing languor, and with it came a mental satisfaction.He had helped to win his first battle, and, like the olderand seasoned men around him, the victory encouragedhim to bid further defiance to the Comanches or anythingelse that threatened.

These reflections were so grateful that he foundhimself able to keep his eyes shut longer. It was notso much of an effort to pull the eyelids down, and when,at intervals steadily growing more distant, he opened hiseyes, it was to find the fires and figures of the menbecoming dim, while the circling line of the wagonsbeyond was quite lost. At last the eyelids stayed downof their own accord, and he floated away into a sleep thatwas deep, sweet, and refreshing.

Others in the camp slept, also, some in the wagons andsome on the ground, with saddles for pillows. Thosewhose duty it was to watch paid no attention to them, but beat up the brush incessantly, and kept up theirendless circles on the plains. The somber clouds that hadobscured the morning floated away, driven back by a lateafternoon sun of uncommon splendor. The gray-greenplains turned to a brilliant red and gold; the willows, cottonwoods, and oaks seemed sheathed in gold, everybough and twig; the muddy river took on richgleaming tints, and then suddenly the sun was gone, leaving all in darkness, save for the smoldering fires.

Phil slept soundly hour after hour. He was soexhausted physically and mentally that the relaxation wascomplete. No dream good or bad came to trouble him, and Breakstone, who observed his peaceful face, said toMiddleton:

"Talk about knitting up the raveled sleeve of care.That boy is knitting up both sleeves at the same time, and he is knitting them fast."

"He is a good lad," said Middleton, "and a braveone, too. It was his first battle, but he certainly borehimself well. Now I wonder what search is bringing himout here into the wilderness."

"And I guess he, too, often wonders the same about us."

"Just as I have wondered it about you, and as youhave wondered it about me."

"But we find it best-every one of us-to keep oursearch to ourselves for the present."

"It is surely best."

The two men looked at each other rather significantly, and then talked of other things.

Phil was awakened at midnight to take his turn at thewatch. The night, as it is so often on the plains ofTexas, even in summer, was cold, and he shivered a littlewhen he drew himself out of his warm blankets. Thefires were nearly out, leaving only a few coals that didnot warm, and few figures were moving except outside thecircle. His body told Phil that he would much rathersleep on, but his mind told him with greater force thathe must go ahead and do his duty with a willing heart, asteady hand, and a quick eye. So he shook himselfthoroughly, and was ready for action. His orders wereto go in the timber a little to the northward and watchfor snipers. Three others were going with him, but theywere to separate and take regular beats.

Phil shouldered his rifle and marched with his comrades.They passed outside the circles of wagons, andstood for a few moments on the bare plain. Afar off theysaw their own mounted sentinels who watched to thewestward, riding back and forth. The moon was cold, and a chill wind swept over the swells, moaningdismally. Phil shivered and was glad that he had a watchon foot in the timber. His comrades were willing tohasten with him to that shelter, and there they arrangedtheir beats. The belt of timber was about a hundredyards wide, with a considerable undergrowth of bushesand tall weeds. They cut the hundred yards into aboutfour equal spaces, and Phil took the quarter next to theriver. He walked steadily back and forth over the twenty-fiveyards, and at the western end of his beat he regularlymet the next sentinel, a young Mississippian namedWelby, whom Phil liked. They exchanged a few wordsnow and then, but, save their low tones, the monotonousmoaning of the wind among the trees, and an occasionalsigh made by the current of the river, which here flowedrather swiftly, there was no sound. On the opposite bankthe trees and bushes reared themselves, a wall of darkgreen.

The chill of the night grew, but the steadywalking back and forth had increased the circulation andwarmed the blood in Phil's veins, and he did not feel it.His long sleep, too, had brought back all his strength, and he was full of courage and zeal. He had suffered areaction after the battle, but now the second reactioncame. The young victor, refreshed in mind and body, feared nothing. Neither was he lonely nor awed by thevast darkness of night in the wilderness. The words thathe spoke with Welby every few minutes were enough tokeep him in touch with the human race, and he reallyfelt content with himself and the world. He had donehis duty under fire, and now he was doing his dutyagain.

He paused a little longer every time he came to theriver, and forcing his mind now to note every detail, hewas impressed by the change that the stream hadundergone. There was a fine full moon, and the muddytorrent of the day was turned into silver, sparkling morebrightly where the bubbles formed and broke. Thestream, swollen doubtless by rains about its source, flowedrapidly with a slight swishing noise. Phil looked upand down it, having a straight sweep of several hundredyards either way. Now and then the silver of its surfacewas broken by pieces of floating debris, brought doubtlessfrom some far point. He watched these fragmentsas they passed, a bough, a weed, or a stump, or the entiretrunk of a tree, wrenched by a swollen current from somecaving bank. He was glad that he had the watch next tothe river, because it was more interesting. The river wasa live thing, changing in color, and moving swiftly. Itssurface, with the objects that at times swept by on it, was a panorama of varied interest.