it looked redder than usual through a cloud of mist, and that means rain. Therefore, Orlando deserts his little Forest of Arden, and betakes himself to the shelter of the curved canvas."
Phil deemed it wise to imitate him, and the four found places in the large wagon among their goods, where they had the shelter of the canvas roof, although the cover was open at either end to allow the clean sweep of the air. Phil, as usual, slept well. Five minutes was about all he needed for the preparatory stage, and to-night was no exception. But he awoke again in the middle of the night. Now he knew full well the cause. Low thunder was rumbling far off at the edge of the earth, and a stroke of lightning made him wink his sleepy eyes. Then came a rush of cold air, and after it the rain. The big drops rattled on the curving canvas roof, but they could not penetrate the thick cloth. Phil raised himself a little, and looked out at the open ends, but he saw only darkness.
Meanwhile the rain increased and beat harder upon the roof, which shed it like shingles. Phil drew his blanket up to his chin, rested his head and shoulders a little more easily against a bag of meal, and never had a greater sense of luxury in his life. The beat of the rain on the canvas was like the patter of the rain on the roof of the old home, when he was a little boy and lay snug under the eaves. He had the same pleasant sense of warmth and shelter now. The storm might beat about him, but it could not touch him. He heard the even breathing of his comrades, who had not awakened. He heard the low thunder still grumbling far off in the south-west, and the lightning came again at intervals, but he sank gently back to slumber.
When he awoke the next morning the rain was still falling, and the whole world was a sodden gray. The air, too, was full of raw chill, despite the southern latitude, and Phil shivered. It was his first impulse to draw the blanket more tightly, but he resolutely put the impulse down. He threw the blanket aside, slipped on his coat and boots, the only apparel that he had removed for the night's rest, and sprang out into the rain, leaving his comrade still asleep.
Not many of the men were yet up, and Phil went at once into the forest in search of fallen wood, which was always abundant. It was not a pleasant task. For the first time he felt the work hard and disagreeable. Mists and vapors were rising from the wet earth, and the sun did not show. The rain came down steadily, and it was cold to the touch. It soaked through the boy's clothing, but he stuck to his task, and brought in the dead wood by the armful. At the third load he met Bill Breakstone, who hailed him cheerily.
"Well, you do make me ashamed of myself, Sir Knight of the Dripping Forest," he said. "When we awoke and found you already up and at work, we concluded that it was time for us to imitate so good an example. Ugh, how cold this rain is, and we five hundred miles from an umbrella!"
Phil was compelled to laugh, and then the laugh made him feel better. But it was a morning that might well oppress the bravest. The wet wood was lighted with extreme difficulty, and then it smoked greatly under the rain. It was hard to do the cooking, and breakfast was not satisfying. But Phil refused to make any complaint. With the rain in his face, he spoke cheerfully of sunshine and warm dry plains.
"We ought to strike the plains of Texas to-morrow or the next day," said Bill Breakstone. "I've been through this region before, and I don't think I'm mistaken. Then we'll get out of this. If it's a long lane that has no turning, it's one just as long that has no end."
They started late, and deep depression hung over the train. The men no longer sang or made jokes at the expense of one another, but crouched upon their horses or the wagon seats, and maintained a sullen silence. Phil was on horseback, but he dried himself at one of the fires, and with the blanket wrapped around his body he was now fairly well protected. It was hard to maintain a pleasant face, but he did it, and Middleton, whom all now usually called Cap, looked his approval.
They advanced very slowly through thickets and across email streams, with mists and vapors so dense that they could see but little ahead. They did not make more than seven or eight miles that day, and, wet and miserable, they camped for the night. The guard was still maintained, and Phil was on duty that night until twelve. When midnight came he crawled into the wagon, depressed and thoroughly exhausted. But he slept well, and the next morning the rain was over. The mists and vapors were gone, and a beautiful sun was shining. All of Phil's good spirits came back as he sprang out of the wagon and looked at the drying earth.
The whole camp was transformed. The cooking fires burned ruddily and with a merry crackle. The men sang their little songs and made their little jokes. They told one another joyously that they would be out of the forest soon and upon the open prairies. They would be in Texas--Texas, that wonderful land of mystery and charm; Texas, already famous for the Alamo and San Jacinto. The fact that this Texas was filled with dangers took nothing from the glow at their hearts. Phil shared in the general enthusiasm, and cried with the others, "Ho for Texas!"
Arenberg's face became very grave.
"Do not be carried away with the high feelings that run to the head," he said. "No harm iss done where none iss meant, but it iss a long road across Texas, and there iss no mile of it which does not have its dangers. Who should know better than I?"
"You speak the truth," said Middleton. "I often think of that Comanche, Black Panther, whose face Phil saw in the thicket."
"You are right to speak of it," said Bill Breakstone. "I have been in the West. I have spent years there. I have been in places that no other white man has ever seen, and just when you think this West, beyond the white man's frontier, is most peaceful, then it is most dangerous. Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, was a dreamy kind of fellow, but when the time came he was a holy terror."
Phil was impressed, but in a little while it seemed to him that it could scarcely be so. The threat contained in Black Panther's face was fading fast from his mind, and danger seemed to him very far. His exuberance of spirit was heightened by the easy journey that they now had through a forest without any undergrowth. The wagons rolled easily over short, young grass, and the thick boughs of the trees overhead protected them from the sun.
"Do you know the country, Bill?" asked Middleton.
"I think so," replied Breakstone. "Unless I'm mightily mistaken, and I don't think I am, this forest ends in four or five miles. Then we come right out on the genuine Texas plain, rolling straight; away for hundreds of miles. I think I'll take Phil here and ride forward and see if I'm not right. Come, Phil!"
The two galloped away straight toward the West, and, as the forest offered no difficulties, they were not compelled to check their speed. But in less than an hour Breakstone, who was in advance, pulled his horse back sharply, and Phil did the same.
"Look, Phil!" exclaimed Breakstone, making a wide sweep with his hands, while face and eyes were glowing, "See, it is Texas!"
Phil looked. None could have been more eager than he was. The hill seemed to drop down before them sheer, like a cliff, but beyond lay a great gray-green waving sea, an expanse of earth that passed under the horizon, and that seemed to have no limit. It was treeless, and the young grass had touched the gray of winter with fresh green.
"The great plains!" exclaimed Phil. He felt an intense thrill. He had at last reached the edge of this vast region of mystery, and to-morrow they would enter it.
"Yes, the great plains," said Bill Breakstone. "And down here, I think, is where our wagons will have to pass." He turned to the left and followed a gentle slope that led to the edge of the plains. Thus, by an easy descent, they left the forest, but when they turned back Phil's eye was caught by a glittering object:
"Look, Bill!" he exclaimed. "See the arrow! What does it mean?"
An arrow with a deeply feathered shaft had been planted deep in an oak tree.
