eyes were now turned in the direction indicated. A white line was
slowly moving down the face of the opposite cliff.

"Rein back, men! rein back!" shouted Twing, as his eye rested upon the
strange object. "Throw yourselves under cover of the hill!"

In a minute our whole party--dragoons, officers, and all--had galloped
our horses into the bed of a dry arroyo, where we were completely
screened from observation. Three or four of us, dismounting, along with
Twing, crept cautiously forward to the position we had just left, and,
raising our heads over the bunch-grass, looked across the chasm. We
were close to its edge, and the opposite "cheek" of the barranca, a huge
wall of trap-rock, about a mile horizontally distant, rose at least a
thousand feet from the river bottom. Its face was almost perpendicular,
with the exception of a few stairs or platforms in the basaltic strata,
and from these hung out stunted palms, cedars, and dark, shapeless
masses of cacti and agave.

Down this front the living line was still moving--slowly, zigzag--along
narrow ledges and over jutting points, as though some white liquid or a
train of gigantic insects were crawling down the precipice. The
occasional flash of a bright object would have told us the nature of
this strange phenomenon, had we not guessed it already. They were armed
men--Mexicans--escaping from the field of battle; and in a wood upon the
escarpment of the cliff we could perceive several thousands of their
comrades huddled up, and waiting for an opportunity to descend. They
were evidently concealed, and out of all danger from their pursuers on
the other side. Indeed, the main body of the American army had already
passed their position, and were moving along the Jalapa road, following
up the clouds of dust that hung upon the retreating squadrons of Santa
Anna.

We lay for some time observing the motions of these cunning fugitives as
they streamed downward. The head of their line had nearly reached the
timbered bottom, through whose green fringes the Plan River swept
onward, curving from cliff to cliff.

Impatient looks were cast towards the major, whose cold grey eye showed
no signs of action.

"Well, Major--what's to be done?" asked one.

"Nothing!" was the impressive reply.

"Nothing!" echoed everyone.

"Why, what could we do?"

"Take them prisoners--every one of them."

"Whom prisoners?"

"These Mexicans--these before us."

"Ha! before you they are--a