He rose and looked at the horses. They had not moved, and it was quite
evident that they had detected no hostile presence. But Ned was not
satisfied. Putting his rifle on his shoulder he slipped through the
forest to the edge of the prairie. Long before he was there he knew that
he had not been deceived by fancy.
He saw, two or three hundred yards in front of him, a long file of
cavalry marching over the prairie, going swiftly and straight ahead, as
if bent upon some purpose well defined. A good moon and abundant stars
furnished plenty of light, and Ned saw that the force was Mexican. There
were no lancers, all the men carrying rifles or muskets, and Ned
believed that he recognized the younger Urrea in the figure at their
head. He had seen the young Mexican so often and in such vivid moments
that there was no phase of pose or gesture that he could forget.
Ned watched the column until it was hidden by the swells. It had never
veered to either right or left, and its course was the same as that of
his comrades and himself. He wondered a little while, and then he felt a
suspicion which quickly grew into a certainty. Urrea, a daring partisan
leader, who rode over great distances, had heard of the schooner and its
arms, and was on his way to the cove to seize them.
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