Hill met them as they entered the living-room. His eyes were full of news.
"Well, boys," he said, "I don't know that you're in fur another adventure, but ye kin call it by that name when you git home if you like; leastways there ain't no doubt about it's bein' an experience."
The boys forgot the waiting breakfast. "What is it?" they demanded simultaneously. "Quick! quick!"
"It's this. I don't suppose you know more about the history of your country 'n most kids do. Well, Alvarado and General Castro are your two big men--"
"We know that," interrupted Roldan, scornfully.
"Oh, you do? Then mebbe you know who'se* govenor* at the present moment."
"Micheltorena. He was sent from Mexico. People don't like him, and they despise the men he brought with him, still more."
"So. Well, I allus did say you was a remarkable kid, Rolly. However, this is the way the case stands now. Alvarado's mad as hops to be ousted for a furriner, so to speak, and Castro's been bilin' fur some time, because General Vallejo's been promoted ahead of him. So the two on 'em determined on a revolution. They had a skirmish on Salinas plains that didn't decide much, and then Alvarado and Castro marched south, from ranch to ranch,--you just levanted in time,--persuadin' the rancheros to uphold their cause and give 'em their sons. As they have a way with 'em, of course they got all the recruits they wanted, to say nothin' of the finest horses in stock--caponara after caponara. They say the sight when they marched into Los Angeles was somethin' to go hungry for. Of course all Los Angeles went over to such triumphant lookin' rebels, and to-day or to-morrow there's goin' to be a big battle. I only heard this mornin'. Old Sanchez' brother come post haste about two hours ago fur his gun and as many men and horses as he could drum up. Of course Alvarado marched down the coast valleys, so old Carillo and his neighbours are eatin' their breakfast in blissful ignorance."
"And shall we really see a great battle?" demanded Roldan, faintly. He was pale, his nostrils were twitching, "Alvarado! Castro! Micheltorena!"
"Well, you kin, if you bolt that there breakfast. The horses'll be here in about twenty minutes, and a battle's somethin' I'm pinin' to see, too."
The boys ate their breakfast rapidly and in silence. A half hour later they were galloping furiously for Los Angeles, escorted by the equally enthusiastic Hill. The river was low and quiet. The horses swam it without let from tide or snag. Even Adan forgot to cross himself. Beyond was the high hill that lies directly to the north of Los Angeles. Its surface seemed in motion; it looked like a huge ant-hill.
"Them's women," said Hill, a few moments after they had left the river behind them. "Women and children. The fight must be on. Hist! Do you hear that?"
All three reined in. The sound of cannonading, distant but distinct, came to their ears. Without a word they lashed their mustangs and made for the city. They entered it in a few moments. It looked like a necropolis. Not a human being was to be seen. They spurred back to the hill and began the ascent, then paused for a few moments. It was a wild and tragic scene. Hundreds of women and children, their hair streaming in the high wind, were kneeling with uplifted crosses, praying aloud, when they were not weeping. A few men, Americans, were passing to and fro among them, administering encouragement; but their gaze also was directed anxiously to the north.
Hill dismounted and approached one of the Americans, conferred with him a moment, then returned to the impatient boys.
"They are fightin' in the San Fernando valley, three leagues to the north," he said. "We've got no time to lose."
