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."
They were less than an hour reaching the battlefield. During that hour
Roldan scarcely knew how he felt. When he left the hacienda he was
possessed by an intense curiosity only; but with that first dull boom
something new and fierce had leapt to life within him. Every few moments
his fingers moved round to the hip-pocket that held his pistols. The
weeping women and children had made him quiver from head to foot.
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