ey were horsemen beyond a doubt;
but, to my astonishment, instead of being close together, one followed
another in single file, until a long line was traced against the sky
like the links of a gigantic chain.

Except in the narrow defile, or the forest-path, my rangers never rode
in that fashion. It could not be they!

At this crisis a new thought came into my mind. More than once in my
life had I witnessed a spectacle similar to that now under my eyes--more
than once had I looked upon it with dread. That serried line was an old
acquaintance: it was a band of Indian warriors on their midnight march--
upon the war-trail!

The actions of the spy were explained: he was an Indian runner. The
party to whom he belonged was about to approach the mesa--perhaps with
the design of encamping there--he had been sent forward to reconnoitre
the ground.

What effect his tale would have, I could not guess. I could see that
the horsemen were halted--perhaps awaiting the return of their
messenger. They were too distant to be seen by the Mexicans; and the
minute after, they were also invisible to my eyes upon the
darkly-shadowed prairie.

Before communicating with Garey, I resolved to wait for another gleam of
moonlight, so that I might have a more distinct story to tell.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

THE CABALLADA.

It was nearly a quarter of an hour before the cloud moved away; and
then, to my surprise, I saw a clump of horses--not _horsemen_--upon the
prairie, and scarcely half-a-mile distant from the mesa! Not one of
them was mounted, and, to all appearance, it was a drove of wild-horses
that had galloped up during the interval of darkness, and were now
standing silent and motionless.

I strained my eyes upon the distant prairie, but the dim horsemen were
no longer to be seen. They must have ridden off beyond the range of
vision?

I was about to seek my comrade and communicate to him what had passed,
when, on rising to my feet, I found him standing by my side. He had
been all around the summit without seeing aught, and had returned to
satisfy himself that the guerrilla were still quiet.

"Hillow!" he exclaimed, as his eyes fell upon the _caballada_. "What
the darnation's yonder? A drove o' wild hosses? It's mighty strange
them niggers don't notice 'em! By the etarnal--"

I know not what Garey meant to have said. His words were drowned by the
wild yell that broke simultaneously from the Mexican line; and the ne