But no opening appeared, and it seemed impossible
for us to reach Laguna alive.
On we went into the dense bushes, a hail of bullets and a rush of
arrows about our ears. But at this moment the clear notes of a cavalry
trumpet sounded "deploy," and the California cavalry crashed through
the willows and we were saved. They broke into a skirmish-line behind
us, but only a few shots were fired and the Navajos were gone.
Being an escort, we could not delay for further operations against the
enemy. Our duty was to return at once to the train. Frank and I were
both uninjured, but a bullet had raised the chevron on the boy's
sleeve, and another had shattered the ivory hilt of his revolver.
The volunteers dismounted for a rest, and I took the opportunity to
make a further search for Vic, my faithful companion and friend.
Leaving my horse with Frank, I started towards the place where I had
last seen her.
As I descended a shallow ravine to the willow-clad brook I came upon
an unexpected sight, and paused to witness it. On his knees, close to
the water, his back towards me, was Corporal Henry.
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