watched them pass on and out of sight. He had not heard the sound of
footsteps or voices above the wind, and after they were gone it seemed
to him that he had seen a line of phantoms.

But he was sure that his own mortal eyes had beheld that for which he
was looking. He and his comrades had been watching the Rio Grande to see
whether the Mexicans had crossed, and now he at least knew it.

He waited patiently three or four hours longer, until the wind died and
the fall of snow ceased, when he mounted his horse and rode out of the
dip. The wind suddenly sprang up again in about fifteen minutes, but
now it blew from the south and was warm. The darkness thinned away as
the moon and stars came out in a perfect sky of southern blue. The
temperature rose many degrees in an hour and Ned knew that the snow
would melt fast. All danger of freezing was past, but he was as hungry
as a bear and tired to death.

He unwrapped the blankets from his body, folded them again in a small
package which he made fast to his saddle, and once more stroked the nose
of his horse.

"Good Old Jack," he murmured--he had called him Old Jack after Andrew
Jackson, then a mighty hero of the south and west, "you passed through
the ordeal and never moved, like the silent gentleman that you are."

Old Jack whinnied ever so softly, and rubbed his nose against the boy's
coat sleeve. Ned mounted him and rode out of the dip, pausing at the top
of the swell for a long look in every direction. The night was now
peaceful and there was no noise, save for the warm wind that blew out of
the south with a gentle sighing sound almost like the note of music.