"I suppose so, sir. I was first to capture him, you know."

Before I could reply to this we were startled by a loud whinny, a
little to the north, which was promptly answered by the black, and,
looking in that direction, we saw a cream-colored pony, with
high-erected head, looking anxiously in the direction of our captive.

"That seems to be a friend of your pony's," I said.

"Another beauty, too, sir! Can't we catch it for Henry?"

"Perhaps we can. It seems inclined to stay by this one. I see all the
other loose ponies have joined the Indians. But wait now until we look
over the field."

We now turned our attention to the prostrate bodies of the fallen
enemy. All were dead.

The body of El Ebano, clad in black buck-skin, ornamented with a
profusion of silver buttons, chains, and bracelets, lay face upward,
his resolute, handsome countenance still in the embrace of death. I
told the men we would give him and his comrades a warrior's burial on
the morrow, and returned to camp to make it defensible against a
possible night attack.

The advantage of numbers was decidedly on the side of the Indians, and
I felt if they could show the firmness and dash of white men our
chances of repelling a resolute attack were small. Counting the
Mexicans and the boys, we numbered but forty-eight, to their three
hundred or more.