Orders were sent to Sergeant Cunningham to wake the men without noise
and assemble them at the barricades.

A little after midnight the moon rose over the mountains and bathed
the valley in a beautiful light.

As the moon cleared herself from the summits of the range and her rays
fell upon the line of paling camp-fires of the Indians, my field-glass
revealed the fact that the raiders had departed. Ponies and riders
were gone. In the whole length and breadth of the Great Valley not a
living being was in sight outside the limit of our encampment.

An inspection to the rear, to the scene of the late conflict, revealed
the fact that the body of El Ebano and the group of dead warriors
which lay about him at nightfall had been taken away. Their removal
had caused the rushing and creeping sounds we had heard.

Mounting my horse, and accompanied by four men upon the four ponies, I
crossed the valley to the Indian fires, but found nothing there except
the horns, hoofs, and entrails of our captured cattle. The flesh had
probably been packed upon the Cordovas' mule and burro to ration a
raiding party into the valley of the Rio Grande.

A well-defined trail went back through the forest, which Cordova
afterwards assured me led to the town of Pina Blanca.

Returning to camp, I wrote a letter to the commanding general, giving
an account of the attack and its repulse, and despatched it by the
Mexicans, who, taking cut-offs with which they were acquainted, and
borrowing horses in relays at ranches on the way, delivered it next