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The Texan Scouts: A Story of the Alamo and Goliad

by Joseph A. Altsheler · English · Gutenberg #15767 · 589,007 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Texan Scouts: A Story of the Alamo and Goliad

Author: Joseph A. Altsheler


        
Release date: May 4, 2005 [eBook #15767]
                Most recently updated: December 14, 2020

Language: English

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Credits: E-text prepared by David Garcia and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library


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made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library



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THE TEXAN SCOUTS

A Story of the Alamo and Goliad

by

JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER

Author of _The Texan Star_, _The Quest of the Four_, _The Scouts of the
Valley_, etc.

Appleton-Century-Crofts, Inc.
New York


1913



     FOREWORD

     "THE TEXAN SCOUTS," WHILE A COMPLETE STORY IN ITSELF, CONTINUES
     THE FORTUNES OF NED FULTON AND HIS FRIENDS, WHO WERE THE CENTRAL
     CHARACTERS IN "THE TEXAN STAR."




CONTENTS

 CHAPTER

    I. IN THE STORM

   II. THE CAPTIVES

  III. THE FIGHT WITH URREA

   IV. THE CABIN IN THE WOODS

    V. SANTA ANNA'S ADVANCE

   VI. FOR FREEDOM'S SAKE

  VII. THE HERALD OF ATTACK

 VIII. IN THE ALAMO

   IX. THE FLAG OF NO QUARTER

    X. CROCKETT AND BOWIE

   XI. THE DESPERATE DEFENCE

  XII. BEFORE THE DICTATOR

 XIII. TO THE LAST MAN

  XIV. THE NEWS OF THE FALL

   XV. IN ANOTHER TRAP

  XVI. FANNIN'S CAMP

 XVII. THE SAD SURRENDER

XVIII. THE BLACK TRAGEDY

  XIX. THE RACE FOR THE BOAT

   XX. THE CRY FOR VENGEANCE





CHAPTER I

IN THE STORM


The horseman rode slowly toward the west, stopping once or twice to
examine the wide circle of the horizon with eyes that were trained to
note every aspect of the wilderness. On his right the plains melted away
in gentle swell after swell, until they met the horizon. Their brown
surface was broken only by the spiked and thorny cactus and stray bits
of chaparral.

On his left was the wide bed of a river which flowed through the sand,
breaking here and there into several streams, and then reuniting, only
to scatter its volume a hundred yards further into three or four
channels. A bird of prey flew on strong wing over the water, dipped and
then rose again, but there was no other sign of life. Beyond, the
country southward rolled away, gray and bare, sterile and desolate.

The horseman looked most often into the south. His glances into the
north were few and brief, but his eyes dwelled long on the lonely land
that lay beyond the yellow current. His was an attractive face. He was
young, only a boy, but the brow was broad and high, and the eyes, grave
and steady, were those of one who thought much. He was clad completely
in buckskin, and his hat was wide of brim. A rifle held in one hand lay
across the pommel of his saddle and there were weapons in his belt. Two
light, but warm, blankets, folded closely, were tied behind him. The
tanned face and the lithe, strong figure showed a wonderful degree of
health and strength.

Several hours passed and the horseman rode on steadily though slowly.
His main direction was toward the west, and always he kept the river two
or three hundred yards on his left. He never failed to search the plains
on either side, but chiefly in the south, with the eager, intent gaze
that missed nothing. But the lonesome gray land, cut by the coiling
yellow river, still rolled before him, and its desolation and chill
struck to his heart. It was the depth of the Texan winter, and, at
times, icy gusts, born in far mountains, swept across the plains.

The rider presently turned his horse toward the river and stopped on a
low bluff overlooking it. His face showed a tinge of disappointment, as
if his eyes failed to find objects for which they sought. Again he gazed
long and patiently into the south, but without reward.

He resumed his ride parallel with the river, but soon stopped a second
time, and held up an open hand, like one who tests the wind. The air was
growing perceptibly colder. The strong gusts were now fusing into a
steady wind. The day, which had not been bright at any time, was turning
darker. The sun was gone and in the far north banks of mists and vapor
were gathering. A dreary moaning came over the plain.

Ned Fulton, tried and brave though he was, beheld the omens with alarm.
He knew what they portended, and in all that vast wilderness he was
alone. Not a human being to share the danger with him! Not a hand to
help!

He looked for chaparral, something that might serve as a sort of
shelter, but he had left the last clump of it behind, and now he turned
and rode directly north, hoping that he might find some deep depression
between the swells where he and his horse, in a fashion, could hide.

Meanwhile the Norther came down with astonishing speed. The temperature
fell like a plummet. The moan of the wind rose to a shriek, and cold
clouds of dust were swept against Ned and his horse. Then snow mingled
with the dust and both beat upon them. Ned felt his horse shivering
under him, and he shivered, too, despite his will. It had turned so dark
that he could no longer tell where he was going, and he used the wide
brim of his hat to protect himself from the sand.

Soon it was black as night, and the snow was driving in a hurricane. The
wind, unchecked by forest or hill, screamed with a sound almost human.
Ned dismounted and walked in the lee of his horse. The animal turned his
head and nuzzled his master, as if he could give him warmth.

Ned hoped that the storm would blow itself out in an hour or two, but
his hope was vain. The darkness did not abate. The wind rose instead of
falling, and the snow thickened. It lay on the plain several inches
deep, and the walking grew harder. At last the two, the boy and the
horse, stopped. Ned knew that they had come into some kind of a
depression, and the full force of the hurricane passed partly over their
heads.

It was yet very dark, and the driving snow scarcely permitted him to
open his eyes, but by feeling about a little he found that one side of
the dip was covered with a growth of dwarf bushes. He led the horse into
the lower edge of these, where some protection was secured, and,
crouching once more in the lee of the animal, he unfolded the two
blankets, which he wrapped closely about himself to the eyes.

Ned, for the first time since the Norther rushed down upon him, felt
secure. He would not freeze to death, he would escape the fate that
sometimes overtook lone hunters or travelers upon those vast plains.
Warmth from the blankets began gradually to replace the chill in his
bones, and the horse and the bushes together protected his face from the
driven snow which had been cutting like hail. He even had, in some
degree, the sense of comfort which one feels when safe inside four walls
with a storm raging past the windows. The horse whinnied once and rubbed
his nose against Ned's hand. He, too, had ceased to shiver.

All that afternoon the Norther blew with undiminished violence. After a
while the fall of snow thinned somewhat, but the wind did not decrease.
Ned was devoutly thankful for the dip and the bushes that grew within
it. Nor was he less thankful for the companionship of his horse. It was
a good horse, a brave horse, a great bay mustang, built powerfully and
with sinews and muscles of steel. He had secured him just after taking
part in the capture of San Antonio with his comrades, Obed White and the
Ring Tailed Panther, and already the tie between horse and rider had
become strong and enduring. Ned stroked him again, and the horse,
twisting his neck around, thrust his nose under his arm.

"Good old boy! Good fellow!" said Ned, pinching his ear. "We were lucky,
you and I, to find this place."

The horse neighed ever so gently, and rubbed his nose up and down. After
a while the darkness began to increase. Ned knew that it was not a new
development of the storm, but the coming of night, and he grew anxious
again. He and his horse, however secure at the present moment, could not
stay always in that dip among the bushes. Yet he did not dare to leave
it. Above on the plain they would receive the full sweep of the wind,
which was still bitterly cold.

He was worn by the continued buffetings of blast and snow, but he did
not dare to lie down, even in the blankets, lest he never wake again,
and while he considered he saw darker shadows in the darkness above him.
He gazed, all attention, and counted ten shadows, following one another,
a dusky file. He knew by the set of their figures, short and stocky,
that they were Mexicans, and his heart beat heavily. These were the
first Mexicans that any one had seen on Texan soil since the departure
of Cos and his army on parole from captured San Antonio. So the Mexicans
had come back, and no doubt they would return in great force!

Ned crouched lower, and he was very glad that the nose of the horse was
still under his arm. He would not have a chance to whinny to his kind
that bore the Mexicans. But the horse made no attempt to move, and Ned
watched them pass on and out of sight. He had not heard the sound of
footsteps or voices above the wind, and after they were gone it seemed
to him that he had seen a line of phantoms.

But he was sure that his own mortal eyes had beheld that for which he
was looking. He and his comrades had been watching the Rio Grande to see
whether the Mexicans had crossed, and now he at least knew it.

He waited patiently three or four hours longer, until the wind died and
the fall of snow ceased, when he mounted his horse and rode out of the
dip. The wind suddenly sprang up again in about fifteen minutes, but
now it blew from the south and was warm. The darkness thinned away as
the moon and stars came out in a perfect sky of southern blue. The
temperature rose many degrees in an hour and Ned knew that the snow
would melt fast. All danger of freezing was past, but he was as hungry
as a bear and tired to death.

He unwrapped the blankets from his body, folded them again in a small
package which he made fast to his saddle, and once more stroked the nose
of his horse.

"Good Old Jack," he murmured--he had called him Old Jack after Andrew
Jackson, then a mighty hero of the south and west, "you passed through
the ordeal and never moved, like the silent gentleman that you are."

Old Jack whinnied ever so softly, and rubbed his nose against the boy's
coat sleeve. Ned mounted him and rode out of the dip, pausing at the top
of the swell for a long look in every direction. The night was now
peaceful and there was no noise, save for the warm wind that blew out of
the south with a gentle sighing sound almost like the note of music.
Trickles of water from the snow, already melting, ran down the crests.
Lighter and lighter grew the sky. The moon seemed to Ned to be poised
directly overhead, and close by. New stars were springing out as the
last clouds floated away.

Ned sought shelter, warmth and a place in which to sleep, and to secure
these three he felt that he must seek timber. The scouts whom he had
seen were probably the only Mexicans north of the Rio Grande, and, as he
believed, there was not one chance in a thousand of meeting such enemies
again. If he should be so lucky as to find shelter he would sleep there
without fear.

He rode almost due north for more than two hours, seeing patches of
chaparral on both right and left. But, grown fastidious now and not
thinking them sufficient for his purpose, he continued his northern
course. Old Jack's feet made a deep sighing sound as they sank in the
snow, and now there was water everywhere as that soft but conquering
south wind blew steadily over the plain.

When he saw a growth of timber rising high and dark upon a swell he
believed that he had found his place, and he urged his horse to renewed
speed. The trees proved to be pecans, aspens and oaks growing so densely
that he was compelled to dismount and lead Old Jack before they could
force an entrance. Inside he found a clear space, somewhat like the
openings of the north, in shape an irregular circle, but not more than
fifteen feet across. Great spreading boughs of oaks had protected it so
well that but little snow had fallen there, and that little had melted.
Already the ground in the circle was drying.

Ned uttered an exclamation of relief and gratitude. This would be his
camp, and to one used to living in the wilderness it furnished good
shelter. At one edge of the opening was an outcropping of flat rock now
quite dry, and there he would spread his bed. He unsaddled and unbridled
his horse, merely tethering him with a lariat, and spread the horse
blanket upon the flat rock. He would lie upon this and cover himself
with his own blankets, using the saddle as a pillow.

But the security of the covert tempted the boy, who was now as hungry as
a bear just come from winter quarters. He felt weak and relaxed after
his long hours in the snow and storm, and he resolved to have warm food
and drink.

There was much fallen wood among the trees, and with his strong hunting
knife he whittled off the bark and thin dry shavings until he had a fine
heap. Working long with flint and steel, he managed to set fire to the
shavings, and then he fed the flames with larger pieces of wood until
he had a great bed of glowing coals. A cautious wilderness rover,
learning always from his tried friends, Ned never rode the plains
without his traveling equipment, and now he drew from his pack a small
tin coffee pot and tiny cup of the same material. Then with quick and
skillful hands he made coffee over the coals and warmed strips of deer
and buffalo meat.

He ate and drank hungrily, while the horse nibbled the grass that grew
within the covert. Glorious warmth came again and the worn feeling
departed. Life, youthful, fresh and abounding, swelled in every vein.

He now put out all the coals carefully, throwing wet leaves upon them,
in order that not a single spark might shine through the trees to be
seen by an enemy upon the plain. He relied upon the horse to give
warning of a possible approach by man, and to keep away wolves.

Then he made his bed upon the rock, doing everything as he had arranged
it in his mind an hour before, and, wrapped in his blankets, fell into
the soundest of sleeps. The south wind still blew steadily, playing a
low musical song among the trees. The beads of water on the twigs and
the few leaves that remained dried fast. The grass dried, too, and
beyond the covert the snow, so quick to come, was equally quick to go.

The horse ceased to nibble the grass, looked at the sleeping boy,
touched his blankets lightly with his nose, and walked to the other side
of the opening, where he lay down and went to his own horse heaven of
sleep.

It was not many hours until day and Old Jack was a light sleeper. When
he opened his eyes again he saw a clear and beautiful winter day of the
far south. The only clouds in the sky were little drifting bits of fine
white wool, and the warm wind still blew. Old Jack, who was in reality
Young Jack, as his years were not yet four, did not think so much of the
covert now, as he had already eaten away all the grass within the little
opening but his sense of duty was strong. He saw that his human master
and comrade still slept, apparently with no intention of awakening at
any very early date, and he set himself to gleaning stray blades of
grass that might have escaped his notice the night before.

Ned awoke a little after the noon hour, and sprang to his feet in
dismay. The sun was almost directly over his head, showing him how late
it was. He looked at his horse as if to reproach his good comrade for
not waking him sooner, but Old Jack's large mild eyes gave him such a
gaze of benignant unconcern that the boy was ashamed of himself.

"It certainly was not your fault," he said to his horse, "and, after
all, it probably doesn't matter. We've had a long sound sleep and rest,
and I've no doubt that both of us will profit by it. Nothing seems to be
left in here for you to eat, but I'll take a little breakfast myself."

He did not relight the fire, but contented himself with cold food. Then
resaddling, he left the grove and rode northward again until he came to
a hill, or, rather, a swell, that was higher than the rest. Here he
stopped his horse and took a glance at the sun, which was shining with
uncommon brilliancy. Then he produced a small mirror from the pocket of
his hunting shirt and held it in such a position that it made a focus of
the sun's rays, throwing them in a perfect blazing lance of light.

He turned the flaming lance around the horizon, until it completed the
circle and then he started around with it again. Meantime he was keeping
a close watch upon every high point. A hill rose in the north, and he
looked at it longest, but nothing came from it. There was another, but
lower, hill in the west, and before he had completed the second round
with his glass a light flashed from it. It was a brilliant light, almost
like a sheaf of white incandescent rays. He lowered his own mirror and
the light played directly upon his hill. When it ceased he sent back
answering rays, to which, when he stopped, a rejoinder came in like
fashion. Then he put the little mirror back in the safe pocket of his
hunting shirt and rode with perfect confidence toward that western hill.

The crest that Ned sought was several miles away, although it looked
much nearer in the thin clear air of the plains, but he rode now at
increased speed, because there was much to draw him on. Old Jack seemed
to share in his lightness of spirit, raising his head once and neighing,
as if he were sending forth a welcome.

The boy soon saw two figures upon the hill, the shapes of horse and man,
outlined in black against the sun, which was now declining in the west.
They were motionless and they were exaggerated into gigantic stature
against the red background. Ned knew them, although the distance was far
too great to disclose any feature. But signal had spoken truly to
signal, and that was enough. Old Jack made a fresh burst of speed and
presently neighed once more. An answering neigh came back from the hill.

Ned rode up the slope and greeted Obed White and the Ring Tailed Panther
with outstretched hands.

"And it's you, my boy," said Obed, his eyes glistening. "Until we saw
your signal we were afraid that you might have frozen to death in the
Norther, but it's a long lane that has no happy ending, and here we are,
all three of us, alive, and as well as ever."

"That's so," said the Panther, "but even when the storm was at its worst
I didn't give up, Ned. Somehow, when things are at the blackest I'm
always hopin'. I don't take any credit fur it. I was just born with that
kind of a streak in me."

Ned regarded him with admiration. The Ring Tailed Panther was certainly
a gorgeous object. He rode a great black horse with a flowing mane. He
was clad completely in a suit of buckskin which was probably without a
match on the border. It and his moccasins were adorned with thick rows
of beads of many colors, that glittered and flashed as the sunlight
played upon them. Heavy silver spurs were fastened to his heels, and his
hat of broad brim and high cone in the Mexican fashion was heavy with
silver braid. His saddle also was of the high, peaked style, studded
with silver. The Panther noticed Ned's smile of appraisement and smiled
back.

"Ain't it fine?" he said. "I guess this is about the beautifullest
outfit to be found in either Texas or Mexico. I bought it all in honor
of our victory just after we took San Antonio, and it soothes my eyes
and makes my heart strong every time I look at it."

"And it helps out the prairies," said Obed White, his eyes twinkling.
"Now that winter has made 'em brown, they need a dash of color and the
Panther gives it to 'em. Fine feathers don't keep a man from being a man
for a' that. What did you do in the storm, Ned?"

"I found shelter in a thick grove, managed to light a fire, and slept
there in my blankets."

"We did about the same."

"But I saw something before I reached my shelter."

"What was that?" exclaimed the two, noting the significance in Ned's
tone.

"While I was waiting in a dip I saw ten Mexican horsemen ride by. They
were heavily armed, and I've no doubt they were scouts belonging to some
strong force."

"And so they are back on this side of the Rio Grande," said Obed White
thoughtfully. "I'm not surprised. Our Texans have rejoiced too early.
The full storm has not burst yet."

The Panther began to bristle. A giant in size, he seemed to grow larger,
and his gorgeous hunting suit strained at the seams.

"Let 'em come on," he said menacingly. "Let Santa Anna himself lead 'em.
We Texans can take care of 'em all."

But Obed White shook his head sadly.

"We could if we were united," he said, "but our leaders have taken to
squabbling. You're a Cheerful Talker, Panther, and you deserve both your
names, but to tell you the honest truth I'm afraid of the Mexican
advance."

"I think the Mexicans probably belonged to Urrea's band," said Ned.

"Very likely," said Obed. "He's about the most energetic of their
partisan leaders, and it may be that we'll run against him pretty soon."

They had heard in their scouting along the Rio Grande that young
Francisco Urrea, after the discovery that he was a spy and his
withdrawal from San Antonio with the captured army of Cos, had organized
a strong force of horsemen and was foremost among those who were urging
a new Mexican advance into Texas.

"It's pretty far west for the Mexicans," said the Panther. "We're on the
edge of the Indian country here."

But Obed considered it all the more likely that Urrea, if he meditated a
raid, would come from the west, since his approach at that point would
be suspected the least. The three held a brief discussion and soon came
to an agreement. They would continue their own ride west and look for
Urrea. Having decided so, they went into the task heart and soul,
despite its dangers.

The three rode side by side and three pairs of skilled eyes examined the
plain. The snow was left only in sheltered places or among the trees.
But the further they went the scarcer became the trees, and before night
they disappeared entirely.

"We are comin' upon the buffalo range," said the Panther. "A hundred
miles further west we'd be likely to strike big herds. When we're
through fightin' the Mexicans I'm goin' out there again. It's the life
fur me."

The night came, dark and cold, but fortunately without wind. They camped
in a dip and did not light any fire, lying as Ned had done the night
before on their horse blankets and wrapping themselves in their own. The
three horses seemed to be contented with one another and made no noise.

They deemed it wise now to keep a watch, as they might be near Urrea's
band or Lipans might pass, and the Panther, who said he was not sleepy
at all, became sentinel. Ned, although he had not risen until noon, was
sleepy again from the long ride, and his eyes closed soon. The last
object that he saw was the Panther standing on the crest of the swell
just beyond them, rifle on shoulder, watching the moonlit plains. Obed
White was asleep already.

The Panther walked back and forth a few times and then looked down at
his comrades in the dip. His trained eyes saw their chests rising and
falling, and he knew that they were far away in the land of Nowhere.
Then he extended his walk back and forth a little further, scanning
carefully the dusky plain.

A light wind sprang up after a while, and it brought a low but heavy and
measured tread to his ears. The Panther's first impulse was to awaken
his friends, because this might be the band of Urrea, but he hesitated a
moment, and then lay down with his ear to the earth. When he rose his
uneasiness had departed and he resumed his walk back and forth. He had
heard that tread before many times and, now that it was coming nearer,
he could not mistake it, but, as the measured beat indicated that it
would pass to one side, it bore no threat for his comrades or himself.

The Panther did not stop his walk as from a distance of a few hundred
yards he watched the great buffalo herd go by. The sound was so steady
and regular that Ned and Obed were not awakened nor were the horses
disturbed. The buffaloes showed a great black mass across the plain,
extending for fully a mile, and they were moving north at an even gait.
The Panther watched until the last had passed, and he judged that there
were fully a hundred thousand animals in the herd. He saw also the big
timber wolves hanging on the rear and flanks, ready to cut out stray
calves or those weak from old age. So busy were the wolves seeking a
chance that they did not notice the gigantic figure of the man, rifle on
shoulder, who stood on the crest of the swell looking at them as they
passed.

The Panther's eyes followed the black line of the herd until it
disappeared under the northern rim of darkness. He was wondering why the
buffaloes were traveling so steadily after daylight and he came to the
conclusion that the impelling motive was not a search for new pastures.
He listened a long time until the last rumble of the hundred thousand
died away in a faint echo, and then he awakened his comrades.

"I'm thinkin'," he said, "that the presence of Urrea's band made the
buffaloes move. Now I'm not a Ring Tailed Panther an' a Cheerful Talker
for nothin', an' we want to hunt that band. Like as not they've been
doin' some mischief, which we may be able partly to undo. I'm in favor
of ridin' south, back on the herd track an' lookin' for 'em."

"So am I," said Obed White. "My watch says it's one o'clock in the
morning, and my watch is always right, because I made it myself. We've
had a pretty good rest, enough to go on, and what we find may be worth
finding. A needle in a haystack may be well hid, but you'll find it if
you look long enough."

They rode almost due south in the great path made by the buffalo herd,
not stopping for a full two hours when a halt was made at a signal from
the Panther. They were in a wide plain, where buffalo grass yet grew
despite the winter, and the Panther said with authority that the herd
had been grazing here before it was started on its night journey into
the north.

"An' if we ride about this place long enough," he said, "we'll find the
reason why the buffaloes left it."

He turned his horse in a circuit of the plain and Ned and Obed followed
the matchless tracker, who was able, even in the moonlight, to note any
disturbance of the soil. Presently he uttered a little cry and pointed
ahead. Both saw the skeleton of a buffalo which evidently had been
killed not long and stripped of its meat. A little further on they saw
another and then two more.

"That tells it," said the Panther succinctly. "These buffaloes were
killed for food an' most likely by Mexicans. It was the shots that set
the herd to runnin'. The men who killed 'em are not far away, an' I'm
not a Ring Tailed Panther an' a Cheerful Talker if they don't belong to
Urrea's band."

"Isn't that a light?" said Ned, pointing to the west, "or is it a
firefly or something of the kind?"

A glowing spark was just visible over the plain, but as it neither moved
nor went out the three concluded that it was made by a distant fire.

"I think it's in chaparral or among trees," said Obed, "or we would see
it more plainly. It's a poor camp fire that hides its light under a
bushel."

"I think you're right an' it must be chaparral," said the Panther. "But
we'll ride toward it an' soon answer our own questions."

The light was more than a mile away and, as they advanced slowly, they
saw it grow in size and intensity. It was surely a campfire, but no
sound that they could yet hear came from it. They did not expect to hear
any. If it was indeed Urrea and his men they would probably be sleeping
soundly, not expecting any foe to be near. The Panther now dismounted,
and the other two did likewise.

"No need to show too high above the plain," he said, "an' if we have to
run it won't take a second to jump back on our horses."

Ned did not take the bridle of his horse as the others did. He knew that
Old Jack would follow as faithful as any dog to his master, and he was
right. As they advanced slowly the velvet nose more than once pressed
trustfully against his elbow.

They saw now that an extensive growth of chaparral rose before them,
from the center of which the light seemed to be shining. The Panther lay
down on the prairie, put his ear to the ground, and listened a long
time.

"I think I hear the feet of horses movin' now an' then," he said, "an'
if so, one of us had better stay behin' with ours. A horse of theirs
might neigh an' a horse of ours might answer. Yon can't tell. Obed, I
guess it'll be for you to stay. You've got a most soothin' disposition
with animals."

"All right," said Obed philosophically, "I'd rather go on, but, if it's
better for me to stay, I'll stay. They also serve who stand and hold the
reins. If you find you've got to leave in a hurry I'll be here waiting."

He gathered up the reins of the three horses and remained quietly on the
plain, while Ned and the Panther went forward, making straight for the
light.

When they came to the edge of the chaparral they knelt among the bushes
and listened. Now both distinctly heard the occasional movement of
horses, and they saw the dusky outlines of several figures before the
fire, which was about three hundred yards away.

"They are bound to be Mexicans," whispered the Panther, "'cause there
are no Texans in this part of the country, an' you an' me, Ned, must
find out just who they are."

"You lead the way, Panther," said Ned. "I'll follow wherever you go."

"Then be mighty careful. Look out for the thorns an' don't knock your
rifle against any bush."

The Panther lay almost flat. His huge figure seemed to blend with the
earth, and he crept forward among the thorny bushes with amazing skill.
He was like some large animal, trained for countless generations to slip
through thickets. Ned, just behind him, could hear only the faintest
noise, and the bushes moved so little that one, not knowing, might have
credited it to the wind.

The boy had the advantage of following in the path made by the man's
larger figure, and he, too, was successful in making no sound. But he
could hear the stamp of horses' feet clearly now, and both to left and
right he caught glimpses of them tethered in the thickets. His comrade
stopped at last. They were not more than a hundred yards from the fire
now, and the space in front of them was mostly open. The Panther,
crouching among the bushes, raised his finger slowly and pointed toward
the fire.

Ned, who had moved to one side, followed the pointing finger and saw
Urrea. He was the dominant figure in a group of six or seven gathered
about the flames. He was no longer in any disguise, but wore an
officer's gorgeous uniform of white and silver. A splendid cocked hat
was on his head, and a small gold hilted rapier swung by his side.

It may have been partly the effect of the night and the red flame, but
the face of Urrea had upon Ned an effect much like that of Santa Anna.
It was dark and handsome, but full of evil. And evil Ned knew Urrea to
be. No man with righteous blood in his veins would play the spy and
traitor as he had done.

"I could shoot him from here," whispered the Panther, who evidently was
influenced in a similar way, "then reach our horses an' get away. It
might be a good deed, an' it might save our lives, Ned, but I'm not able
to force myself to do it."

"Nor I," said Ned. "I can't shoot an enemy from ambush."

Urrea and the other men at the fire, all of whom were in the dress of
officers, were in a deep talk. Ned inferred that the subject must be of
much importance, since they sat awake, discussing it between midnight
and morning.

"Look beyond the fire at the figures leanin' against the trees,"
whispered the Panther.

Ned looked and hot anger rose in his veins.




CHAPTER II

THE CAPTIVES


Ned had not noticed at first, but, since his eyes were growing used to
the dim light, and since the Panther had pointed the way, he saw a dozen
men, arms bound tightly behind them, leaning against the trees. They
were prisoners and he knew instinctively that they were Texans. His
blood, hot at first, now chilled in his veins. They had been captured by
Urrea in a raid, and as Santa Anna had decreed that all Texans were
rebels who should be executed when taken, they would surely die, unless
rescue came.

"What shall we do?" he whispered.

"Nothing now," replied the Panther, in the same soft tone, "but if you
an' Obed are with me we'll follow this crowd, an' maybe we can get the
Texans away from 'em. It's likely that Urrea will cross the Rio Grande
an' go down into Mexico to meet Cos or Santa Anna. Are you game enough
to go, Ned? I'm a Ring Tailed Panther an' a roarin' grizzly bear, but I
don't like to follow all by myself."

"I'm with you," said Ned, "if I have to go all the way back to the City
of Mexico, an' I know that I can speak for Obed, too."

"I jest asked as a matter of form," said the Panther. "I knowed before
askin' that you an' Obed would stick to me."

There was a sudden gust of wind at that moment and the light of the fire
sprang higher. The flames threw a glow across the faces of the
prisoners. Most of them were asleep, but Ned saw them very distinctly
now. One was a boy but little older than himself, his face pale and
worn. Near him was an old man, with a face very uncommon on the border.
His features were those of a scholar and ascetic. His cheeks were thin,
and thick white hair crowned a broad white brow. Ned felt instinctively
that he was a man of importance.

Both the boy and the man slept the sleep of utter exhaustion.

Urrea rose presently and looked at his prisoners. The moonlight was
shining on his face, and it seemed to Ned to be that of some master
demon. The boy was far from denying many good qualities to the Mexicans,
but the countenance of Urrea certainly did not express any of them that
night. It showed only savage exultation as he looked at the bound men,
and Ned knew that this was a formidable enemy of the Texans, one who
would bring infinite resources of cunning and enterprise to crush them.

Urrea said a few words to his officers and then withdrew into a small
tent which Ned had not noticed hitherto. The officers lay down in their
blankets, but a dozen sentinels watched about the open space. Ned and
the Panther crept slowly back toward the plain.

"What is our best plan, Panther?" whispered the hoy.

"We can't do anything yet but haul off, watch an' then follow. The
chaparral runs along for a mile or two an' we can hide in the north end
of it until they march south an' are out of sight. Then we'll hang on."

They found Obed standing exactly where they had left him, the reins of
the three horses in his hands.

"Back at last," he said. "All things come to him who waits long enough,
if he doesn't die first. Did you see anything besides a lot of Mexican
vaqueros, fuddled with liquor and sound asleep?"

"We did not see any vaqueros," replied the Panther, "but we saw Urrea
an' his band, an' they had among them a dozen good Texans bound fast,
men who will be shot if we three don't stand in the way. You have to
follow with us, Obed, because Ned has already promised for you."

The Maine man looked at them and smiled.

"A terribly good mind reader, that boy, Ned," he said. "He knew exactly
what I wanted. There's a lot of things in the world that I'd like to do,
but the one that I want to do most just now is to follow Urrea and that
crowd of his and take away those Texans. You two couldn't keep me from
going."

The Panther smiled back.

"You are shorely the right stuff, Obed White," he said. "We're only
three in this bunch, but two of 'em besides me are ring-tailed panthers.
Now we'll just draw off, before it's day, an' hide in the chaparral up
there."

They rode a mile to the north and remained among dense bushes until
daylight. At dawn they saw a column of smoke rise from Urrea's camp.

"They are cookin' breakfast now," said the Panther. "It's my guess that
in an hour they'll be ridin' south with their prisoners."

The column of smoke sank after a while, and a couple of hours later the
three left the chaparral. From one of the summits they dimly saw a mass
of horsemen riding toward Mexico.

"There's our men," said the Panther, "an' now we'll follow all day at
this good, safe distance. At night we can draw up closer if we want to
do it."

The Mexicans maintained a steady pace, and the three pursuers followed
at a distance of perhaps two miles. Now and then the swells completely
shut Urrea's band from sight, but Ned, Obed and the Panther followed the
broad trail without the slightest difficulty.

"They'll reach the river before noon," said the Panther. "There ain't
any doubt now that they're bound for Mexico. It's jest as well for what
we want to do, 'cause they're likely to be less watchful there than they
are in Texas."

The band of Urrea, as nearly as they could judge, numbered about fifty,
all mounted and armed well. The Mexicans were fine horsemen, and with
good training and leadership they were dangerous foes. The three knew
them well, and they kept so far behind that they were not likely to be
observed.

It was only a half hour past noon when Urrea's men reached the Rio
Grande, and without stopping made the crossing. They avoided the
quicksands with experienced eyes, and swam their horses through the deep
water, the prisoners always kept in the center of the troop. Ned, Obed
and the Panther watched them until they passed out of sight. Then they,
too, rode forward, although slowly, toward the stream.

"We can't lose 'em," said the Panther, "so I think we'd better stay out
of sight now that they're on real Mexican soil. Maybe our chance will
come to-night, an' ag'in maybe it won't."

"Patience will have its perfect rescue, if we only do the right things,"
said Obed.

"An' if we think hard enough an' long enough we're bound to do 'em, or
I'm a Ring Tailed Panther an' a Cheerful Talker fur nothin'," said the
Panther.

Waiting until they were certain that the Mexicans were five or six miles
ahead, the three forded the Rio Grande, and stood once more on Mexican
soil. It gave Ned a curious thrill. He had passed through so much in
Mexico that he had not believed he would ever again enter that country.
The land on the Mexican side was about the same as that on the Texan,
but it seemed different to him. He beheld again that aspect of infinite
age, of the long weariness of time, and of physical decay.

They rode more briskly through the afternoon and at darkness saw the
camp fires of Urrea glimmering ahead of them. But the night was not
favorable to their plans. The sky was the usual cloudless blue of the
Mexican plateau, the moon was at the full and all the stars were out.
What they wanted was bad weather, hoping meanwhile the execution of the
prisoners would not be begun until the Mexicans reached higher authority
than Urrea, perhaps Santa Anna himself.

They made their own camp a full two miles from Urrea's, and Obed and the
Panther divided the watch.

Urrea started early the next morning, and so did the pursuing three. The
dawn was gray, and the breeze was chill. As they rode on, the wind rose
and its edge became so sharp that there was a prospect of another
Norther. The Panther unrolled from his pack the most gorgeous serape
that Ned had ever seen. It was of the finest material, colored a deep
scarlet and it had a gold fringe.

"Fine feathers are seen afar," said Obed.

"That's so," said the Panther, "but we're not coming near enough to the
Mexicans for them to catch a glimpse of this, an' such bein' the case
I'm goin' to put it between me an' the cold. I'm proud of it, an' when I
wrap it aroun' me I feel bigger an' stronger. Its red color helps me. I
think I draw strength from red, just as I do from a fine, tender buffalo
steak."

He spoke with much earnestness, and the other two did not contradict
him. Meanwhile he gracefully folded the great serape about his
shoulders, letting it fall to the saddle. No Mexican could have worn it
more rakishly.

"That's my shield and protector," he said. "Now blow wind, blow snow,
I'll keep warm."

It blew wind, but it did not blow snow. The day remained cold, but the
air undoubtedly had a touch of damp.

"It may rain, and I'm sure the night will be dark," said Obed. "We may
have our chance. Fortune favors those who help themselves."

The country became more broken, and the patches of scrub forest
increased in number. Often the three rode quite near to Urrea's men and
observed them closely. The Mexicans were moving slowly, and, as the
Americans had foreseen, discipline was relaxed greatly.

Near night drops of rain began to fall in their faces, and the sun set
among clouds. The three rejoiced. A night, dark and wet, had come sooner
than they had hoped. Obed and Ned also took out serapes, and wrapped
them around their shoulders. They served now not only to protect their
bodies, but to keep their firearms dry as well. Then they tethered their
horses among thorn bushes about a mile from Urrea's camp, and advanced
on foot.

They saw the camp fire glimmering feebly through the night, and they
advanced boldly. It was so dark now that a human figure fifty feet away
blended with the dusk, and the ground, softened by the rain, gave back
no sound of footsteps. Nevertheless they saw on their right a field
which showed a few signs of cultivation, and they surmised that Urrea
had made his camp at the lone hut of some peon.

They reckoned right. They came to clumps of trees, and in an opening
inclosed by them was a low adobe hut, from the open door of which a
light shone. They knew that Urrea and his officers had taken refuge
there from the rain and cold and, under the boughs of the trees or
beside the fire, they saw the rest of the band sheltering themselves as
best they could. The prisoners, their hands bound, were in a group in
the open, where the slow, cold rain fell steadily upon them. Ned's heart
swelled with rage at the sight.

Order and discipline seemed to be lacking. Men came and went as they
pleased. Fully twenty of them were making a shelter of canvas and thatch
beside the hut. Others began to build the fire higher in order to fend
off the wet and cold. Ned did not see that the chance of a rescue was
improved, but the Panther felt a sudden glow when his eyes alighted upon
something dark at the edge of the woods. A tiny shed stood there and his
keen eyes marked what was beneath it.

"What do you think we'd better do, Panther?" asked Obed.

"No roarin' jest now. We mustn't raise our voices above whispers, but
we'll go back in the brush and wait. In an hour or two all these
Mexicans will be asleep. Like as not the sentinels, if they post any,
will be asleep first."

They withdrew deeper into the thickets, where they remained close
together. They saw the fire die in the Mexican camp. After a while all
sounds there ceased, and again they crept near. The Panther was a
genuine prophet, known and recognized by his comrades. Urrea's men,
having finished their shelters, were now asleep, including all the
sentinels except two. There was some excuse for them. They were in their
own country, far from any Texan force of importance, and the night could
scarcely have been worse. It was very dark, and the cold rain fell with
a steadiness and insistence that sought and finally found every opening
in one's clothing. Even the stalking three drew their serapes closer,
and shivered a little.

The two sentinels who did not sleep were together on the south side of
the glade. Evidently they wished the company of each other. They were
now some distance from the dark little shed toward which the Panther was
leading his comrades, and their whole energies were absorbed in an
attempt to light two cigarritos, which would soothe and strengthen them
as they kept their rainy and useless watch.

The three completed the segment of the circle and reached the little
shed which had become such an object of importance to the Panther.

"Don't you see?" said the Panther, his grim joy showing in his tone.

They saw, and they shared his satisfaction. The Mexicans had stacked
their rifles and muskets under the shed, where they would be protected
from the rain.

"It's queer what foolish things men do in war," said Obed. "Whom the
gods would destroy they first deprive of the sense of danger. They do
not dream that Richard, meaning the Panther, is in the chaparral."

"If we approach this shed from the rear the sentinels, even if they
look, will not be able to see us," said the Panther. "By the great horn
spoon, what an opportunity! I can hardly keep from roarin' an' ravin'
about it. Now, boys, we'll take away their guns, swift an' quiet."

A few trips apiece and all the rifles and muskets with their ammunition
were carried deep into the chaparral, where Obed, gladly sacrificing his
own comfort, covered them against the rain with his serape. Not a sign
had come meanwhile from the two sentinels on the far side of the camp.
Ned once or twice saw the lighted ends of their cigarritos glowing like
sparks in the darkness, but the outlines of the men's figures were very
dusky.

"An' now for the riskiest part of our job, the one that counts the
most," said the Panther, "the one that will make everything else a
failure if it falls through. We've got to secure the prisoners."

The captives were lying under the boughs of some trees about twenty
yards from the spot where the fire had been built. The pitiless rain had
beaten upon them, but as far as Ned could judge they had gone to sleep,
doubtless through sheer exhaustion. The Panther's plan of action was
swift and comprehensive.

"Boys," he said, "I'm the best shot of us three. I don't say it in any
spirit of boastin', 'cause I've pulled trigger about every day for
thirty years, an' more'n once a hundred times in one day. Now you two
give me your rifles and I'll set here in the edge of the bushes, then
you go ahead as silent as you can an' cut the prisoners loose. If
there's an alarm I'll open fire with the three rifles and cover the
escape."

Handing the rifles to the Panther, the two slipped forward. It was a
grateful task to Ned. Again his heart swelled with wrath as he saw the
dark figures of the bound men lying on the ground in the rain. He
remembered the one who was youthful of face like himself and he sought
him. As he approached he made out a figure lying in a strained
position, and he was sure that it was the captive lad. A yard or two
more and he knew absolutely. He touched the boy on the shoulder,
whispered in his ear that it was a friend, and, with one sweep of his
knife, released his arms.

"Crawl to the chaparral there," said Ned, in swift sharp tones, pointing
the way. "Another friend is waiting at that point."

The boy, without a word, began to creep forward in a stiff and awkward
fashion. Ned turned to the next prisoner. It was the elderly man whom he
had seen from the chaparral, and he was wide awake, staring intently at
Ned.

"Is it rescue?" he whispered. "Is it possible?"

"It is rescue. It is possible," replied Ned, in a similar whisper. "Turn
a little to one side and I will cut the cords that bind you."

The man turned, but when Ned freed him he whispered:

"You will have to help me. I cannot yet walk alone. Urrea has already
given me a taste of what I was to expect."

Ned shuddered. There was a terrible significance in the prisoner's tone.
He assisted him to rise partly, but the man staggered. It was evident
that he could not walk. He must help this man, but the others were
waiting to be released also. Then the good thought came.

"Wait a moment," he said, and he cut the bonds of another man.

"Now you help your friend there," he said.

He saw the two going away together, and he turned to the others. He and
Obed worked fast, and within five minutes the last man was released. But
as they crept back toward the chaparral the slack sentinels caught
sight of the dusky figures retreating. Two musket shots were fired and
there were rapid shouts in Mexican jargon. Ned and Obed rose to their
feet and, keeping the escaped prisoners before them, ran for the
thickets.

A terrific reply to the Mexican alarm came from the forest. A volley of
rifle and pistol shots was fired among the soldiers as they sprang to
their feet and a tremendous voice roared:

"At 'em, boys! At 'em! Charge 'em! Now is your time! Rip an' t'ar an'
roar an' chaw! Don't let a single one escape! Sweep the scum off the
face of the earth!"

The Ring Tailed Panther had a mighty voice, issuing from a mighty
throat. Never had he used it in greater volume or to better purpose than
on that night. The forest fairly thundered with the echoes of the battle
cry, and as the dazed Mexicans rushed for their guns only to find them
gone, they thought that the whole Texan army was upon them. In another
instant a new terror struck at their hearts. Their horses and mules,
driven in a frightful stampede, suddenly rushed into the glade and they
were now busy keeping themselves from being trampled to death.

Truly the Panther had spent well the few minutes allotted to him. He
fired new shots, some into the frightened herd. His tremendous voice
never ceased for an instant to encourage his charging troops, and to
roar out threats against the enemy. Urrea, to his credit, made an
attempt to organize his men, to stop the panic, and to see the nature of
the enemy, but he was borne away in the frantic mob of men and horses
which was now rushing for the open plain.

Ned and Obed led the fugitives to the place where the rifles and muskets
were stacked. Here they rapidly distributed the weapons and then broke
across the tree trunks all they could not use or carry. Another minute
and they reached their horses, where the Panther, panting from his huge
exertions, joined them. Ned helped the lame man upon one of the horses,
the weakest two who remained, including the boy, were put upon the
others, and led by the Panther they started northward, leaving the
chaparral.

It was a singular march, but for a long time nothing was said. The sound
of the Mexican stampede could yet be heard, moving to the south, but
they, rescuers and rescued, walked in silence save for the sound of
their feet in the mud of the wind-swept plain. Ned looked curiously at
the faces of those whom they had saved, but the night had not lightened,
and he could discern nothing. They went thus a full quarter of an hour.
The noise of the stampede sank away in the south, and then the Panther
laughed.

It was a deep, hearty, unctuous laugh that came from the very depths of
the man's chest. It was a laugh with no trace of merely superficial joy.
He who uttered it laughed because his heart and soul were in it. It was
a laugh of mirth, relief and triumph, all carried to the highest degree.
It was a long laugh, rising and falling, but when it ceased and the
Panther had drawn a deep breath he opened his mouth again and spoke the
words that were in his mind.

"I shorely did some rippin' an' roarin' then," he said. "It was the best
chance I ever had, an' I guess I used it. How things did work for us!
Them sleepy sentinels, an' then the stampede of the animals, carryin'
Urrea an' the rest right away with it."

"Fortune certainly worked for us," said Ned.

"And we can find no words in which to describe to you our gratitude,"
said the crippled man on the horse. "We were informed very clearly by
Urrea that we were rebels and, under the decree of Santa Anna, would be
executed. Even our young friend here, this boy, William Allen, would not
have been spared."

"We ain't all the way out of the woods yet," said the Panther, not
wishing to have their hopes rise too high and then fall. "Of course
Urrea an' his men have some arms left. They wouldn't stack 'em all under
the shed, an' they can get more from other Mexicans in these parts. When
they learn from their trailers how few we are they'll follow."

The rescued were silent, save one, evidently a veteran frontiersman, who
said:

"Let 'em come. I was took by surprise, not thinkin' any Mexicans was
north of the Rio Grande. But now that I've got a rifle on one shoulder
an' a musket on the other I think I could thrash an acre-lot full of
'em."

"That's the talk," said Obed White. "We'll say to 'em: 'Come one, come
all, this rock from its firm base may fly, but we're the boys who'll
never say die.'"

They relapsed once more into silence. The rain had lightened a little,
but the night was as dark as ever. The boy whom the man had called
William Allen drew up by the side of Ned. They were of about the same
height, and each was as tall and strong as a man.

"Have you any friends here with you?" asked Ned.

"All of them are my friends, but I made them in captivity. I came to
Texas to find my fortune, and I found this."

The boy laughed, half in pity of himself, and half with genuine humor.

"But I ought not to complain," he added, "when we've been saved in the
most wonderful way. How did you ever happen to do it?"

"We've been following you all the way from the other side of the Rio
Grande, waiting a good chance. It came to-night with the darkness, the
rain, and the carelessness of the Mexicans. I heard the man call you
William Allen. My name is Fulton, Edward Fulton, Ned to my friends."

"And mine's Will to my friends."

"And you and I are going to be friends, that's sure."

"Nothing can be surer."

The hands of the two boys met in a strong grasp, signifying a friendship
that was destined to endure.

The Panther and Obed now began to seek a place for a camp. They knew
that too much haste would mean a breakdown, and they meant that the
people whom they had rescued should have a rest. But it took a long time
to find the trees which would furnish wood and partial shelter. It was
Obed who made the happy discovery some time after midnight. Turning to
their left, they entered a grove of dwarf oaks, covering a half acre or
so, and with much labor and striving built a fire. They made it a big
fire, too, and fed it until the flames roared and danced. Ned noticed
that all the rescued prisoners crouched close to it, as if it were a
giver of strength and courage as well as warmth, and now the light
revealed their faces. He looked first at the crippled man, and the
surprise that he had felt at his first glimpse of him increased.

The stranger was of a type uncommon on the border. His large features
showed cultivation and the signs of habitual and deep thought. His thick
white hair surmounted a broad brow. His clothing, although torn by
thorns and briars, was of fine quality. Ned knew instinctively that it
was a powerful face, one that seldom showed the emotions behind it. The
rest, except the boy, were of the border, lean, sun-browned men,
dressed in tanned deerskin.

The Panther and Obed also gazed at the crippled man with great
curiosity. They knew the difference, and they were surprised to find
such a man in such a situation. He did not seem to notice them at first,
but from his seat on a log leaned over the fire warming his hands, which
Ned saw were large, white and smooth. His legs lay loosely against the
log, as if he were suffering from a species of paralysis. The others,
soaked by the rain, which, however, now ceased, were also hovering over
the fire which was giving new life to the blood in their veins. The man
with the white hands turned presently and, speaking to Ned, Obed and the
Panther, said:

"My name is Roylston, John Roylston."

Ned started.

"I see that you have heard of it," continued the stranger, but without
vanity. "Yes, I am the merchant of New Orleans. I have lands and other
property in this region for which I have paid fairly. I hold the deeds
and they are also guaranteed to me by Santa Anna and the Mexican
Congress. I was seized by this guerilla leader, Urrea. He knew who I
was, and he sought to extract from me an order for a large sum of money
lying in a European bank in the City of Mexico. There are various ways
of procuring such orders, and he tried one of the most primitive
methods. That is why I cannot walk without help. No, I will not tell
what was done. It is not pleasant to hear. Let it pass. I shall walk
again as well as ever in a month."

"Did he get the order?" asked Obed curiously.

Roylston laughed deep in his throat.

"He did not," he said. "It was not because I valued it so much, but my
pride would not permit me to give way to such crude methods. I must
say, however, that you three came just in time, and you have done a most
marvelous piece of work."

Ned shuddered and walked a little space out on the plain to steady his
nerves. He had never deceived himself about the dangers that the Texans
were facing, but it seemed that they would have to fight every kind of
ferocity. When he returned, Obed and the Panther were building the fire
higher.

"We must get everybody good and dry," said the Panther. "Pursuit will
come, but not to-night, an' we needn't worry about the blaze. We've food
enough for all of you for a day, but we haven't the horses, an' for that
I'm sorry. If we had them we could git away without a doubt to the Texan
army."

"But not having them," said Obed, "we'll even do the best we can, if the
Mexicans, having run away, come back to fight another day."

"So we will," said a stalwart Texan named Fields. "That Urrea don't get
me again, and if I ain't mistook your friend here is Mr. Palmer, better
known in our parts as the Ring Tailed Panther, ain't he?"

Ned saw the Panther's huge form swell. He still wore the great serape,
which shone in the firelight with a deep blood-red tinge.

"I am the Ring Tailed Panther," he said proudly.

"Then lemme shake your hand. You an' your pards have done a job to-night
that ain't had its like often, and me bein' one of them that's profited
by it makes it look all the bigger to me."

The Panther graciously extended an enormous palm, and the great palm of
Fields met it in a giant clasp. A smile lighted up the somber face of
Mr. Roylston as he looked at them.

"Often we find powerful friends when we least expect them," he said.

"As you are the worst hurt of the lot," said the Panther, "we're going
to make you a bed right here by the fire. No, it ain't any use sayin'
you won't lay down on it. If you won't we'll jest have to put you down."

They spread a blanket, upon which the exhausted merchant lay, and they
covered him with a serape. Soon he fell asleep, and then Fields said to
Ned and his comrades:

"You fellows have done all the work, an' you've piled up such a mountain
of debt against us that we can never wipe it out. Now you go to sleep
and four of us will watch. And, knowin' what would happen to us if we
were caught, we'll watch well. But nothing is to be expected to-night."

"Suits us," said Obed. "Some must watch while others sleep, so runs the
world away. Bet you a dollar, Ned, that I'm off to Slumberland before
you are."

"I don't take the bet," said Ned, "but I'll run you an even race."

In exactly five minutes the two, rolled in their own blankets, slept
soundly. All the others soon followed, except four, who, unlike the
Mexicans, kept a watch that missed nothing.




CHAPTER III

THE FIGHT WITH URREA


Morning came. Up rose the sun, pouring a brilliant light over the
desolate plains. Beads of water from the rain the night before sparkled
a little while and then dried up. But the day was cold, nevertheless,
and a sharp wind now began to search for the weakest point of every one.
Ned, Obed and the Panther were up betimes, but some of the rescued still
slept.

Ned, at the suggestion of the Panther, mounted one of the horses and
rode out on the plain a half mile to the south. Those keen eyes of his
were becoming all the keener from life upon the vast rolling plains. But
no matter how he searched the horizon he saw only a lonesome cactus or
two shivering in the wind. When he returned with his report the
redoubtable Panther said:

"Then we'll just take our time. The pursuit's goin' to come, but since
it ain't in sight we'll brace up these new friends of ours with hot
coffee an' vittles. I guess we've got coffee enough left for all."

They lighted the fire anew and soon pleasant odors arose. The rescued
prisoners ate and drank hungrily, and Mr. Roylston was able to limp a
little. Now that Ned saw him in the full daylight he understood more
clearly than ever that this was indeed a most uncommon man. The brow and
eyes belonged to one who thought, planned and organized. He spoke little
and made no complaint, but when he looked at Ned he said:

"You are young, my boy, to live among such dangers. Why do you not go
north into the states where life is safe?"

"There are others as young as I, or younger, who have fought or will
fight for Texas," said Ned. "I belong here and I've got powerful
friends. Two of them have saved my life more than once and are likely to
do so again."

He nodded toward Obed and the Panther, who were too far away to hear.
Roylston smiled. The two men were in singular contrast, but each was
striking in his way. Obed, of great height and very thin, but
exceedingly strong, was like a steel lath. The Panther, huge in every
aspect, reminded one, in his size and strength, of a buffalo bull.

"They are uncommon men, no doubt," said Roylston. "And you expect to
remain with them?"

"I'd never leave them while this war lasts! Not under any
circumstances!"

Ned spoke with great energy, and again Roylston smiled, but he said no
more.

"It's time to start," said the Panther.

Roylston again mounted one of the horses. Ned saw that it hurt his pride
to have to ride, but he saw also that he would not complain when
complaints availed nothing. He felt an increasing interest in a man who
seemed to have perfect command over himself.

The boy, Will Allen, was fresh and strong again. His youthful frame had
recovered completely from all hardships, and now that he was free,
armed, and in the company of true friends his face glowed with pleasure
and enthusiasm. He was tall and strong, and now he carried a good rifle
with a pistol also in his belt. He and Ned walked side by side, and each
rejoiced in the companionship of one of his own age.

"How long have you been with them?" asked Will, looking at Obed and the
Panther.

"I was first with Obed away down in Mexico. We were prisoners together
in the submarine dungeon of San Juan de Ulua. I'd never have escaped
without him. And I'd never have escaped a lot more things without him,
either. Then we met the Panther. He's the greatest frontiersman in all
the southwest, and we three somehow have become hooked together."

Will looked at Ned a little enviously.

"What comrades you three must be!" he said. "I have nobody."

"Are you going to fight for Texas?"

"I count on doing so."

"Then why don't you join us, and we three will turn into four?"

Will looked at Ned, and his eyes glistened.

"Do you mean that?" he asked.

"Do I mean it? I think I do. Ho, there, Panther! You and Obed, just a
minute or two!"

The two turned back. Ned and Will were walking at the rear of the little
company.

"I've asked Will to be one of us," said Ned, "to join our band and to
share our fortunes, good or bad."

"Can he make all the signs, an' has he rid the goat?" asked the Panther
solemnly.

"Does he hereby swear never to tell any secret of ours to Mexican or
Indian?" asked Obed. "Does he swear to obey all our laws and by-laws
wherever he may be, and whenever he is put to the test?"

"He swears to everything," replied Ned, "and I know that he is the kind
to make a trusty comrade to the death."

"Then you are declared this minute a member of our company in good
standin'," said the Panther to Will, "an' with this grip I give you
welcome."

He crushed the boy's hand in a mighty grasp that made him wince, and
Obed followed with one that was almost equally severe. But the boy did
not mind the physical pain. Instead, his soul was uplifted. He was now
the chosen comrade of these three paladins, and he was no longer alone
in the world. But he merely said:

"I'll try to show myself worthy."

They were compelled to stop at noon for rather a long rest, as walking
was tiresome. Fields, who was a good scout, went back and looked for
pursuers, but announced that he saw none, and, after an hour, they
started again.

"I'm thinkin'," said the Panther, "that Urrea has already organized the
pursuit. Mebbe he has pow'ful glasses an' kin see us when we can't see
him. He may mean to attack to-night. It's a lucky thing for us that we
can find timber now an' then."

"It's likely that you're right about to-night," said Obed, "but there's
no night so dark that it doesn't have its silver lining. I guess
everybody in this little crowd is a good shot, unless maybe it's Mr.
Roylston, and as we have about three guns apiece we can make it mighty
hot for any force that Urrea may bring against us."

They began now to search for timber, looking especially for some clump
of trees that also inclosed water. They did not anticipate any great
difficulty in regard to the water, as the winter season and the heavy
rains had filled the dry creek beds, and had sent torrents down the
arroyos. Before dark they found a stream about a foot deep running over
sand between banks seven or eight feet high toward the Rio Grande. A
mile further on a small grove of myrtle oaks and pecans grew on its left
bank, and there they made their camp.

Feeling that they must rely upon their valor and watchfulness, and not
upon secrecy, they built a fire, and ate a good supper. Then they put
out the fire and half of them remained on guard, the other half going to
sleep, except Roylston, who sat with his back to a tree, his injured
legs resting upon a bed of leaves which the boys had raked up for him.
He had been riding Old Jack and the horse had seemed to take to him, but
after the stop Ned himself had looked after his mount.

The boy allowed Old Jack to graze a while, and then he tethered him in
the thickest of the woods just behind the sleeping man. He wished the
horse to be as safe as possible in case bullets should be flying, and he
could find no better place for him. But before going he stroked his nose
and whispered in his ear.

"Good Old Jack! Brave fellow!" he said. "We are going to have troublous
times, you and I, along with the others, but I think we are going to
ride through them safely."

The horse whinnied ever so softly, and nuzzled Ned's arm. The
understanding between them was complete. Then Ned left him, intending to
take a position by the bank of the creek as he was on the early watch.
On the way he passed Roylston, who regarded him attentively.

"I judge that your leader, Mr. Palmer, whom you generally call the
Panther, is expecting an attack," said the merchant.

"He's the kind of man who tries to provide for everything," replied Ned.

"Of course, then," said Roylston, "he provides for the creek bed. The
Mexican skirmishers can come up it and yet be protected by its banks."

"That is so," said the Panther, who had approached as he was speaking.
"It's the one place that we've got to watch most, an' Ned an' me are
goin' to sit there on the banks, always lookin'. I see that you've got
the eye of a general, Mr. Roylston."

The merchant smiled.

"I'm afraid I don't count for much in battle," he said, "and least of
all hampered as I am now. But if the worst comes to the worst I can sit
here with my back to this tree and shoot. If you will kindly give me a
rifle and ammunition I shall be ready for the emergency."

"But it is your time to sleep, Mr. Roylston," said the Panther.

"I don't think I can sleep, and as I cannot I might as well be of use."

The Panther brought him the rifle, powder and bullets, and Roylston,
leaning against the tree, rifle across his knees, watched with bright
eyes. Sentinels were placed at the edge of the grove, but the Panther
and Ned, as arranged, were on the high bank overlooking the bed of the
creek. Now and then they walked back and forth, meeting at intervals,
but most of the time each kept to his own particular part of the ground.

Ned found an oak, blown down on the bank by some hurricane, and as there
was a comfortable seat on a bough with the trunk as a rest for his back
he remained there a long time. But his ease did not cause him to relax
his vigilance. He was looking toward the north, and he could see two
hundred yards or more up the creek bed to a point where it curved. The
bed itself was about thirty feet wide, although the water did not have a
width of more than ten feet.

Everything was now quite dry, as the wind had been blowing all day. But
the breeze had died with the night, and the camp was so still that Ned
could hear the faint trickle of the water over the sand. It was a fair
night, with a cold moon and cold stars looking down. The air was full
of chill, and Ned began to walk up and down again in order to keep warm.
He noticed Roylston still sitting with eyes wide open and the rifle
across his lap.

As Ned came near in his walk the merchant turned his bright eyes upon
him.

"I hear," he said, "that you have seen Santa Anna."

"More than once. Several times when I was a prisoner in Mexico, and
again when I was recaptured."

"What do you think of him?"

The gaze of the bright eyes fixed upon Ned became intense and
concentrated.

"A great man! A wickedly great man!"

Roylston turned his look away, and interlaced his fingers thoughtfully.

"A good description, I think," he said. "You have chosen your words
well. A singular compound is this Mexican, a mixture of greatness,
vanity and evil. I may talk to you more of him some day. But I tell you
now that I am particularly desirous of not being carried a prisoner to
him."

He lifted the rifle, put its stock to his shoulder, and drew a bead.

"I think I could hit at forty or fifty yards in this good moonlight," he
said.

He replaced the rifle across his knees and sighed. Ned was curious, but
he would not ask questions, and he walked back to his old position by
the bank. Here he made himself easy, and kept his eyes on the deep
trench that had been cut by the stream. The shadows were dark against
the bank, but it seemed to him that they were darker than they had been
before.

Ned's blood turned a little colder, and his scalp tingled. He was
startled but not afraid. He looked intently, and saw moving figures in
the river bed, keeping close against the bank. He could not see faces,
he could not even discern a clear outline of the figures, but he had no
doubt that these were Urrea's Mexicans. He waited only a moment longer
to assure himself that the dark moving line was fact and not fancy.
Then, aiming his rifle at the foremost shape, he fired. While the echo
of the sharp crack was yet speeding across the plain he cried:

"Up, men! up! Urrea is here!"

A volley came from the creek bed, but in an instant the Panther, Obed,
Will and Fields were by Ned's side.

"Down on your faces," cried the Panther, "an' pot 'em as they run! So
they thought to go aroun' the grove, come down from the north an'
surprise us this way! Give it to 'em, boys!"

The rifles flashed and the dark line in the bed of the creek now broke
into a huddle of flying forms. Three fell, but the rest ran, splashing
through the sand and water, until they turned the curve and were
protected from the deadly bullets. Then the Panther, calling to the
others, rushed to the other side of the grove, where a second attack,
led by Urrea in person, had been begun. Here men on horseback charged
directly at the wood, but they were met by a fire which emptied more
than one saddle.

Much of the charge was a blur to Ned, a medley of fire and smoke, of
beating hoofs and of cries. But one thing he saw clearly and never
forgot. It was the lame man with the thick white hair sitting with his
back against a tree calmly firing a rifle at the Mexicans. Roylston had
time for only two shots, but when he reloaded the second time he placed
the rifle across his knees as before and smiled.

Most Mexican troops would have been content with a single charge, but
these returned, encouraged by shouts and driven on by fierce commands.
Ned saw a figure waving a sword. He believed it to be Urrea, and he
fired, but he missed, and the next moment the horseman was lost in the
shadows.

The second charge was beaten back like the first, and several
skirmishers who tried to come anew down the bed of the creek were also
put to flight. Two Mexicans got into the thickets and tried to stampede
the horses, but the quickness of Obed and Fields defeated their aim. One
of the Mexicans fell there, but the other escaped in the darkness.

When the second charge was driven back and the horses were quieted the
Panther and Obed threshed up the woods, lest some Mexican musketeer
should lie hidden there.

Nobody slept any more that night. Ned, Will and the Panther kept a sharp
watch upon the bed of the creek, the moon and stars fortunately aiding
them. But the Mexicans did not venture again by that perilous road,
although toward morning they opened a scattering fire from the plain,
many of their bullets whistling at random among the trees and thickets.
Some of the Texans, crawling to the edge of the wood, replied, but they
seemed to have little chance for a good shot, as the Mexicans lay behind
a swell. The besiegers grew tired after a while and silence came again.

Three of the Texans had suffered slight wounds, but the Panther and
Fields bound them up skillfully. It was still light enough for these
tasks. Fields was particularly jubilant over their success, as he had a
right to be. The day before he could look forward only to his own
execution. Now he was free and victorious. Exultantly he hummed:

    You've heard, I s'pose, of New Orleans,
      It's famed for youth and beauty;
    There are girls of every hue, it seems,
      From snowy white to sooty.
    Now Packenham has made his brags,
      If he that day was lucky,
    He'd have the girls and cotton bags
      In spite of Old Kentucky.

    But Jackson, he was wide awake,
      And was not scared at trifles,
    For well he knew Kentucky's boys,
      With their death-dealing rifles.
    He led them down to cypress swamp,
      The ground was low and mucky;
    There stood John Bull in martial pomp,
      And here stood old Kentucky.

"Pretty good song, that of yours," said the Panther approvingly. "Where
did you get it?"

"From my father," replied Fields. "He's a Kentuckian, an' he fit at New
Orleans. He was always hummin' that song, an' it come back to me after
we drove off the Mexicans. Struck me that it was right timely."

Ned and Will, on their own initiative, had been drawing all the fallen
logs that they could find and move to the edge of the wood, and having
finished the task they came back to the bed of the creek. Roylston, the
rifle across his knees, was sitting with his eyes closed, but he opened
them as they approached. They were uncommonly large and bright eyes, and
they expressed pleasure.

"It gratifies me to see that neither of you is hurt," he said. "This has
been a strange night for two who are as young as you are. And it is a
strange night for me, too. I never before thought that I should be
firing at any one with intent to kill. But events are often too powerful
for us."

He closed his eyes again.

"I am going to sleep a little, if I can," he said.

But Ned and Will could not sleep. They went to Ned's old position at the
edge of the creek bed, and together watched the opening dawn. They saw
the bright sun rise over the great plains, and the dew sparkle for a
little while on the brown grass. The day was cold, but apparently it had
come with peace. They saw nothing on the plain, although they had no
doubt that the Mexicans were waiting just beyond the first swell. But
Ned and Will discerned three dark objects lying on the sand up the bed
of the creek, and they knew that they were the men who had fallen in the
first rush. Ned was glad that he could not see their faces.

At the suggestion of the Panther they lighted fires and had warm food
and coffee again, thus putting heart into all the defenders. Then the
Panther chose Ned for a little scouting work on horseback. Ned found Old
Jack seeking blades of grass within the limits allowed by his lariat.
But when the horse saw his master he stretched out his head and neighed.

"I think I understand you," said Ned. "Not enough food and no water.
Well, I'll see that you get both later, but just now we're going on a
little excursion."

The Panther and Ned rode boldly out of the trees, and advanced a short
distance upon the plain. Two or three shots were fired from a point
behind the first swell, but the bullets fell far short.

"I counted on that," said the Panther. "If a Mexican has a gun it's
mighty hard for him to keep from firing it. All we wanted to do was to
uncover their position an' we've done it. We'll go back now, an' wait
fur them to make the first move."

But they did not go just yet. A man on horseback waving a large white
handkerchief appeared on the crest of the swell and rode toward them. It
was Urrea.

"He knows that he can trust us, while we don't know that we can trust
him," said the Panther, "so we'll just wait here an' see what he has to
say."

Urrea, looking fresh and spirited, came on with confidence and saluted
in a light easy fashion. The two Americans did not return the salute,
but waited gravely.

"We can be polite, even if we are enemies," said Urrea, "so I say good
morning to you both, former friends of mine."

"I have no friendship with spies and traitors," growled the Panther.

"I serve my country in the way I think best," said Urrea, "and you must
remember that in our view you two are rebels and traitors."

"We don't stab in the back," said the Panther.

Urrea flushed through his swarthy skin.

"We will not argue the point any further," he said, "but come at once to
the business before us. First, I will admit several things. Your rescue
of the prisoners was very clever. Also you beat us off last night, but I
now have a hundred men with me and we have plenty of arms. We are bound
to take you sooner or later."

"Then why talk to us about it?" said the Panther.

"Because I wish to save bloodshed."

"Wa'al, then, what do you have to say?"

"Give us the man, Roylston, and the rest of you can go free."

"Why are you so anxious to have Roylston?"

Ned eagerly awaited the answer. It was obvious that Roylston had rather
minimized his own importance. Urrea flicked the mane of his mustang with
a small whip and replied:

"Our President and General, the illustrious Santa Anna, is extremely
anxious to see him. Secrets of state are not for me. I merely seek to do
my work."

"Then you take this from me," said the Panther, a blunt frontiersman,
"my comrades an' me ain't buyin' our lives at the price of nobody
else's."

"You feel that way about it, do you?"

"That's just the way we feel, and I want to say, too, that I wouldn't
take the word of either you or your Santa Anna. If we was to give up Mr.
Roylston--which we don't dream of doin'--you'd be after us as hot an'
strong as ever."

Urrea's swarthy cheeks flushed again.

"I shall not notice your insults," he said. "They are beneath me. I am a
Mexican officer and gentleman, and you are mere riders of the plains."

"All the same," said the Panther grimly, "if you are goin' to talk you
have to talk with us."

"That is true," said Urrea lightly, having regained complete control of
his temper. "In war one cannot choose his enemies. I make you the
proposition once more. Give us Roylston and go. If you do not accept we
shall nevertheless take him and all of you who do not fall first.
Remember that you are rebels and traitors and that you will surely be
shot or hanged."

"I don't remember any of them things," said the Panther grimly. "What I
do remember is that we are Texans fightin' fur our rights. To hang a man
you've first got to catch him, an' to shoot him you've first got to hit
him. An' since things are to be remembered, remember that what you are
tryin' to do to us we may first do to you. An' with that I reckon we'll
bid you good day, Mr. Urrea."

Urrea bowed, but said nothing. He rode back toward his men, and Ned and
the Panther returned to the grove. Roylston was much better that morning
and he was able to stand, leaning against a tree.

"May I ask the result of your conference," he said.

"There ain't no secret about it," replied the Panther, "but them
Mexicans seem to be almighty fond of you, Mr. Roylston."

"In what way did they show it?"

"Urrea said that all of us could go if we would give up you."

"And your answer?"

The Panther leaned forward a little on his horse.

"You know something about the Texans, don't you, Mr. Roylston?"

"I have had much opportunity to observe and study them."

"Well, they've got plenty of faults, but you haven't heard of them
buyin' their lives at the price of a comrade's, have you?"

"I have not, but I wish to say, Mr. Palmer, that I'm sorry you returned
this answer. I should gladly take my chances if the rest of you could
go."

"We'd never think of it," said the Panther. "Besides, them Mexicans
wouldn't keep their word. They're goin' to besiege us here, hopin' maybe
that starvation or thirst will make us give you up. Now the first thing
for us to do is to get water for the horses."

This presented a problem, as the horses could not go down to the creek,
owing to the steep high banks, but the Texans soon solved it. The cliff
was soft and they quickly cut a smooth sloping path with their knives
and hatchets. Old Jack was the first to walk down it and Ned led him.
The horse hung back a little, but Ned patted his head and talked to him
as a friend and equal. Under such persuasion Old Jack finally made the
venture, and when he landed safely at the bottom he drank eagerly. Then
the other two horses followed. Meanwhile two riflemen kept a keen watch
up and down the creek bed for lurking Mexican sharpshooters.

But the watering of the horses was finished without incident, and they
were tethered once more in the thicket. Fields and another man kept a
watch upon the plain, and the rest conferred under the trees. The
Panther announced that by a great reduction of rations the food could be
made to last two days longer. It was not a cheerful statement, as the
Mexicans must know the scanty nature of their supplies, and would wait
with all the patience of Indians.

"All things, including starvation, come to him who waits long enough,"
said Obed White soberly.

"We'll jest set the day through," said the Panther, "an' see what turns
up."

But the day was quite peaceful. It was warmer than usual and bright with
sunshine. The Mexicans appeared on some of the knolls, seemingly near in
the thin clear air, but far enough away to be out of rifle shot, and
began to play cards or loll on their serapes. Several went to sleep.

"They mean to show us that they have all the time in the world," said
Ned to Will, "and that they are willing to wait until we fall like ripe
apples into their hands."

"Do you think they will get us again?" asked Will anxiously.

"I don't. We've got food for two days and I believe that something will
happen in our favor within that time. Do you notice, Will, that it's
beginning to cloud up again? In winter you can't depend upon bright
sunshine to last always. I think we're going to have a dark night and
it's given me an idea."

"What is it?"

"I won't tell you, because it may amount to nothing. It all depends upon
what kind of night we have."

The sun did not return. The clouds banked up more heavily, and in the
afternoon Ned went to the Panther. They talked together earnestly,
looking frequently at the skies, and the faces of both expressed
satisfaction. Then they entered the bed of the creek and examined it
critically. Will was watching them. When the two separated and Ned came
toward him, he said:

"I can guess your idea now. We mean to escape to-night up the bed of the
creek."

Ned nodded.

"Your first guess is good," he said. "If the promise of a dark night
keeps up we're going to try."

The promise was fulfilled. The Mexicans made no hostile movement
throughout the afternoon, but they maintained a rigid watch.

When the sun had set and the thick night had come down the Panther told
of the daring enterprise they were about to undertake, and all approved.
By nine o'clock the darkness was complete, and the little band gathered
at the point where the path was cut down into the bed of the creek. It
was likely that Mexicans were on all sides of the grove, but the Panther
did not believe that any of them, owing to bitter experience, would
enter the cut made by the stream. But, as leader, he insisted upon the
least possible noise. The greatest difficulty would be with the horses.
Ned, at the head of Old Jack, led the way.

Old Jack made the descent without slipping and in a few minutes the
entire force stood upon the sand. They had made no sound that any one
could have heard thirty yards away.

"Now Mr. Roylston," whispered the Panther to the merchant, "you get on
Ned's horse an' we'll be off."

Roylston sighed. It hurt his pride that he should be a burden, but he
was a man of few words, and he mounted in silence. Then they moved
slowly over the soft sand. They had loaded the extra rifles and muskets
on the other two horses, but every man remained thoroughly armed and
ready on the instant for any emergency.

The Panther and Obed led. Just behind them came Ned and Will. They went
very slowly in order to keep the horses' feet from making any sound that
listening Mexican sentinels might hear. They were fortunate in the sand,
which was fine and soundless like a carpet. Ned thought that the
Mexicans would not make any attempt upon the grove until late at night,
and then only with skirmishers and snipers. Or they might not make any
attempt at all, content with their cordon.

But it was thrilling work as they crept along on the soft sand in the
darkness and between the high banks. Ned felt a prickling of the blood.
An incautious footstep or a stumble by one of the horses might bring the
whole Mexican force down upon them at any moment. But there was no
incautious footstep. Nor did any horse stumble. The silent procession
moved on, passed the curve in the bed of the creek and continued its
course.

Urrea had surrounded the grove completely. His men were on both sides of
the creek, but no sound came to them, and they had a healthy respect
for the deadly Texan rifles. Their leader had certainly been wise in
deciding to starve them out. Meanwhile the little procession in the bed
of the creek increased its speed slightly.

The Texans were now a full four hundred yards from the grove, and their
confidence was rising.

"If they don't discover our absence until morning," whispered Ned to
Will, "we'll surely get away."

"Then I hope they won't discover it until then," said Will fervently. "I
don't want to die in battle just now, nor do I want to be executed in
Mexico for a rebel or for anything else."

They were now a full mile from the grove and the banks of the creek were
decreasing in height. They did not rise anywhere more than three or four
feet. But the water increased in depth and the margin of sand was
narrower. The Panther called a halt and they listened. They heard no
sound but the faint moaning of the wind among the dips and swells, and
the long lone howl of a lonesome coyote.

"We've slipped through 'em! By the great horn spoon, we've slipped
through 'em!" said the Panther exultantly. "Now, boys, we'll take to the
water here to throw 'em off our track, when they try to follow it in the
mornin'."

The creek was now about three feet in depth and flowing slowly like most
streams in that region, but over a bed of hard sand, where the trace of
a footstep would quickly vanish.

"The water is likely to be cold," said the Panther, "an' if any fellow
is afraid of it he can stay behind and consort with the Mexicans who
don't care much for water."

"Lead on, Macduff," said Obed, "and there's nobody who will cry 'hold,
enough.'"

The Panther waded directly into the middle of the stream, and all the
others followed. The horses, splashing the water, made some noise, but
they were not so careful in that particular now since they had put a
mile between themselves and the grove. In fact, the Panther urged them
to greater speed, careless of the sounds, and they kept in the water for
a full two miles further. Then they quit the stream at a point where the
soil seemed least likely to leave traces of their footsteps, and stood
for a little while upon the prairie, resting and shivering. Then they
started at a rapid pace across the country, pushing for the Rio Grande
until noon. Then Fields stalked and shot an antelope, with which they
renewed their supply of food. In the afternoon it rained heavily, but by
dark they reached the Rio Grande, across which they made a dangerous
passage, as the waters had risen, and stood once more on the soil of
Texas.

"Thank God!" said Will.

"Thank God!" repeated Ned.

Then they looked for shelter, which all felt they must have.




CHAPTER IV

THE CABIN IN THE WOODS


It proved a difficult matter to find shelter. All the members of the
little group were wet and cold, and a bitter wind with snow began to
whistle once more across the plain. But every one strove to be cheerful
and the relief that their escape had brought was still a tonic to their
spirits. Yet they were not without comment upon their condition.

"I've seen hard winters in Maine," said Obed White, "but there you were
ready for them. Here it tricks you with warm sunshine and then with
snow. You suffer from surprise."

"We've got to find a cabin," said the Panther.

"Why not make it a whole city with a fine big hotel right in the center
of it?" said Obed. "Seems to me there's about as much chance of one as
the other."

"No, there ain't," said the Panther. "There ain't no town, but there are
huts. I've rid over this country for twenty year an' I know somethin'
about it. There are four or five settlers' cabins in the valleys of the
creeks runnin' down to the Rio Grande. I had a mighty good dinner at one
of 'em once. They're more'n likely to be abandoned now owin' to the war
an' their exposed situation, but if the roofs haven't fell in any of 'em
is good enough for us."

"Then you lead on," said Obed. "The quicker we get there the happier all
of us will be."

"I may not lead straight, but I'll get you there," replied the Panther
confidently.

Roylston, at his own urgent insistence, dismounted and walked a little
while. When he betook himself again to the back of Old Jack he spoke
with quiet confidence.

"I'm regaining my strength rapidly," he said. "In a week or two I shall
be as good as I ever was. Meanwhile my debt to you, already great, is
accumulating."

The Panther laughed.

"You don't owe us nothin'," he said. "Why, on this frontier it's one
man's business to help another out of a scrape. If we didn't do that we
couldn't live."

"Nevertheless, I shall try to pay it," said Roylston, in significant
tones.

"For the moment we'll think of that hut we're lookin' for," said the
Panther.

"It will be more than a hut," said Will, who was of a singularly
cheerful nature. "I can see it now. It will be a gorgeous palace. Its
name will be the Inn of the Panther. Menials in gorgeous livery will
show us to our chambers, one for every man, where we will sleep between
white sheets of the finest linen."

"I wonder if they will let us take our rifles to bed with us," said Ned,
"because in this country I don't feel that I can part with mine, even
for a moment."

"That is a mere detail which we will discuss with our host," said Obed.
"Perhaps, after you have eaten of the chicken and drunk of the wine at
this glorious Inn of the Panther, you will not be so particular about
the company of your rifle, Mr. Fulton."

The Panther uttered a cry of joy.

"I've got my b'arin's exactly now," he said. "It ain't more'n four miles
to a cabin that I know of, an' if raiders haven't smashed it it'll give
us all the shelter we want."

"Then lead us swiftly," said Obed. "There's no sunset or anything to
give me mystical lore, but the coming of that cabin casts its shadow
before, or at least I want it to do it."

The Panther's announcement brought new courage to every one and they
quickened their lagging footsteps. He led toward a dark line of timber
which now began to show through the driving snow, and when they passed
among the trees he announced once more and with exultation:

"Only a mile farther, boys, an' we'll be where the cabin stands, or
stood. Don't git your feelin's too high, 'cause it may have been wiped
off the face of the earth."

A little later he uttered another cry, and this was the most exultant of
all.

"There she is," he said, pointing ahead. "She ain't been wiped away by
nobody or nothin'. Don't you see her, that big, stout cabin ahead?"

"I do," said young Allen joyously, "and it's the Inn of the Panther as
sure as you live."

"But I don't see any smoke coming out of the chimney," said Ned, "and
there are no gorgeous menials standing on the doorstep waiting for us."

"It's been abandoned a long time," said the Panther. "I can tell that by
its looks, but I'm thinkin' that it's good enough fur us an' mighty
welcome. An' there's a shed behind the house that'll do for the horses.
Boys, we're travelin' in tall luck."

The cabin, a large one, built of logs and adobe, was certainly a
consoling sight. They had almost reached the limit of physical
endurance, but they broke into a run to reach it. The Panther and Ned
were the first to push open a heavy swinging door, and they entered side
by side. It was dry within. The solid board roof did not seem to be
damaged at all, and the floor of hard, packed earth was as dry as a bone
also. At one end were a wide stone fireplace, cold long since, and a
good chimney of mud and sticks. There were two windows, closed with
heavy clapboard shutters.

There was no furniture in the cabin except two rough wooden benches.
Evidently the original owners had prepared well for their flight, but it
was likely that no one had come since. The lonely place among the trees
had passed unobserved by raiders. The shed behind the cabin was also in
good condition, and they tethered there the horses, which were glad
enough to escape from the bitter wind and driving snow.

The whole party gathered in the cabin, and as they no longer feared
pursuit it was agreed unanimously that they must have luxury. In this
case a fire meant the greatest of all luxuries.

They gathered an abundance of fallen wood, knocked the snow from it and
heaped it on either side of the fireplace. They cut with infinite
difficulty dry shavings from the inside of the logs in the wall of the
house, and after a full hour of hard work lighted a blaze with flint and
steel. The rest was easy, and soon they had a roaring fire. They
fastened the door with the wooden bar which stood in its place and let
the windows remain shut. Although there was a lack of air, they did not
yet feel it, and gave themselves up to the luxury of the glowing heat.

They took off their clothes and held them before the fire. When they
were dry and warm they put them on again and felt like new beings.
Strips of the antelope were fried on the ends of ramrods, and they ate
plentifully. All the chill was driven from their bodies, and in its
place came a deep pervading sense of comfort. The bitter wind yet howled
without and they heard the snow driven against the door and windows.
The sound heightened their feeling of luxury. They were like a troop of
boys now, all of them--except Roylston. He sat on one of the piles of
wood and his eyes gleamed as the others talked.

"I vote that we enlarge the name of our inn," said Allen. "Since our
leader has black hair and black eyes, let's call it the Inn of the Black
Panther. All in favor of that motion say 'Aye.'"

"Aye!" they roared.

"All against it say 'no.'"

Silence.

"The Inn of the Black Panther it is," said Will, "an' it is the most
welcome inn that ever housed me."

The Panther smiled benevolently.

"I don't blame you boys for havin' a little fun," he said. "It does feel
good to be here after all that we've been through."

The joy of the Texans was irrepressible. Fields began to pat and three
or four of them danced up and down the earthen floor of the cabin. Will
watched with dancing eyes. Ned, more sober, sat by his side.

However, the highest spirits must grow calm at last, and gradually the
singing and dancing ceased. It had grown quite close in the cabin now,
and one of the window shutters was thrown open, permitting a rush of
cool, fresh air that was very welcome. Ned looked out. The wind was
still whistling and moaning, and the snow, like a white veil, hid the
trees.

The men one by one went to sleep on the floor. Obed and Fields kept
watch at the window during the first half of the night, and the Panther
and Ned relieved them for the second half. They heard nothing but the
wind, and saw nothing but the snow. Day came with a hidden sun, and the
fine snow still driven by the wind, but the Panther, a good judge of
weather, predicted a cessation of the snow within an hour.

The men awoke and rose slowly from the floor. They were somewhat stiff,
but no one had been overcome, and after a little stretching of the
muscles all the soreness disappeared. The horses were within the shed,
unharmed and warm, but hungry. They relighted the fire and broiled more
strips of the antelope, but they saw that little would be left. The
Panther turned to Roylston, who inspired respect in them all.

"Now, Mr. Roylston," he said, "we've got to agree upon some course of
action an' we've got to put it to ourselves squar'ly. I take it that all
of us want to serve Texas in one way or another, but we've got only
three horses, we're about out of food, an' we're a long distance from
the main Texas settlements. It ain't any use fur us to start to rippin'
an' t'arin' unless we've got somethin' to rip an' t'ar with."

"Good words," said Obed White. "A speech in time saves errors nine."

"I am glad you have put the question, Mr. Palmer," said Roylston. "Our
affairs have come to a crisis, and we must consider. I, too, wish to
help Texas, but I can help it more by other ways than battle."

It did not occur to any of them to doubt him. He had already established
over them the mental ascendency that comes from a great mind used to
dealing with great affairs.

"But we are practically dismounted," he continued. "It is winter and we
do not know what would happen to us if we undertook to roam over the
prairies as we are. On the other hand, we have an abundance of arms and
ammunition and a large and well-built cabin. I suggest that we supply
ourselves with food, and stay here until we can acquire suitable mounts.
We may also contrive to keep a watch upon any Mexican armies that may be
marching north. I perhaps have more reason than any of you for hastening
away, but I can spend the time profitably in regaining the use of my
limbs."

"Your little talk sounds mighty good to me," said the Panther. "In fact,
I don't see anything else to do. This cabin must have been built an'
left here 'speshully fur us. We know, too, that the Texans have all gone
home, thinkin' that the war is over, while we know different an' mebbe
we can do more good here than anywhere else. What do you say, boys? Do
we stay?"

"We stay," replied all together.

They went to work at once fitting up their house. More firewood was
brought in. Fortunately the men had been provided with hatchets, in the
frontier style, which their rescuers had not neglected to bring away,
and they fixed wooden hooks in the walls for their extra arms and
clothing. A half dozen scraped away a large area of the thin snow and
enabled the horses to find grass. A fine spring two hundred yards away
furnished a supply of water.

After the horses had eaten Obed, the Panther and Ned rode away in search
of game, leaving Mr. Roylston in command at the cabin.

The snow was no longer falling, and that which lay on the ground was
melting rapidly.

"I know this country," said the Panther, "an' we've got four chances for
game. It may be buffalo, it may be deer, it may be antelope, and it may
be wild turkeys. I think it most likely that we'll find buffalo. We're
so fur west of the main settlements that they're apt to hang 'roun'
here in the winter in the creek bottoms, an' if it snows they'll take to
the timber fur shelter."

"And it has snowed," said Ned.

"Jest so, an' that bein' the case we'll search the timber. Of course big
herds couldn't crowd in thar, but in this part of the country we
gen'rally find the buffalo scattered in little bands."

They found patches of forest, generally dwarfed in character, and looked
diligently for the great game. Once a deer sprang out of a thicket, but
sped away so fast they did not get a chance for a shot. At length Obed
saw large footprints in the thinning snow, and called the Panther's
attention to them. The big man examined the traces critically.

"Not many hours old," he said. "I'm thinkin' that we'll have buffalo
steak fur supper. We'll scout all along this timber. What we want is a
young cow. Their meat is not tough."

They rode through the timber for about two hours, when Ned caught sight
of moving figures on the far side of a thicket. He could just see the
backs of large animals, and he knew that there were their buffalo. He
pointed them out to the Panther, who nodded.

"We'll ride 'roun' the thicket as gently as possible," he said, "an'
then open fire. Remember, we want a tender young cow, two of 'em if we
can get 'em, an' don't fool with the bulls."

Ned's heart throbbed as Old Jack bore him around the thicket. He had
fought with men, but he was not yet a buffalo hunter. Just as they
turned the flank of the bushes a huge buffalo bull, catching their odor,
raised his head and uttered a snort. The Panther promptly fired at a
young cow just beyond him. The big bull, either frightened or angry,
leaped head down at Old Jack. The horse was without experience with
buffaloes, but he knew that those sharp horns meant no good to him, and
he sprang aside with so much agility that Ned was almost unseated.

The big bull rushed on, and Ned, who had retained his hold upon his
rifle, was tempted to take a shot at him for revenge, but, remembering
the Panther's injunction, he controlled the impulse and fired at a young
cow.

When the noise and confusion were over and the surviving buffaloes had
lumbered away, they found that they had slain two of the young cows and
that they had an ample supply of meat.

"Ned," said the Panther, "you know how to go back to the cabin, don't
you?"

"I can go straight as an arrow."

"Then ride your own horse, lead the other two an' bring two men. We'll
need 'em with the work here."

The Panther and Obed were already at work skinning the cows. Ned sprang
upon Old Jack, and rode away at a trot, leading the other two horses by
their lariats. The snow was gone now and the breeze was almost balmy.
Ned felt that great rebound of the spirits of which the young are so
capable. They had outwitted Urrea, they had taken his prisoners from
him, and then had escaped across the Rio Grande. They had found shelter
and now they had obtained a food supply. They were all good comrades
together, and what more was to be asked?

He whistled as he rode along, but when he was half way back to the cabin
he noticed something in a large tree that caused him to stop. He saw the
outlines of great bronze birds, and he knew that they were wild turkeys.
Wild turkeys would make a fine addition to their larder, and, halting
Old Jack, he shot from his back, taking careful aim at the largest of
the turkeys. The huge bird fell, and as the others flew away Ned was
lucky enough to bring down a second with a pistol shot.

His trophies were indeed worth taking, and tying their legs together
with a withe he hung them across his saddle bow. He calculated that the
two together weighed nearly sixty pounds, and he rode triumphantly when
he came in sight of the cabin.

Will saw him first and gave a shout that drew the other men.

"What luck?" hailed young Allen.

"Not much," replied Ned, "but I did get these sparrows."

He lifted the two great turkeys from his saddle and tossed them to Will.
The boy caught them, but he was borne to his knees by their weight. The
men looked at them and uttered approving words.

"What did you do with the Panther and Obed?" asked Fields.

"The last I saw of them they had been dismounted and were being chased
over the plain by two big bull buffaloes. The horns of the buffaloes
were then not more than a foot from the seats of their trousers. So I
caught their horses, and I have brought them back to camp."

"I take it," said Fields, "that you've had good luck."

"We have had the finest of luck," replied Ned. "We ran into a group of
fifteen or twenty buffaloes, and we brought down two fine, young cows. I
came back for two more men to help with them, and on my way I shot these
turkeys."

Fields and another man named Carter returned with Ned. Young Allen was
extremely anxious to go, but the others were chosen on account of their
experience with the work. They found that Obed and the Panther had
already done the most of it, and when it was all finished Fields and
Carter started back with the three horses, heavily laden. As the night
promised to be mild, and the snow was gone, Ned, Obed and the Panther
remained in the grove with the rest of their food supply.

They also wished to preserve the two buffalo robes, and they staked them
out upon the ground, scraping them clean of flesh with their knives.
Then they lighted a fire and cooked as much of the tender meat as they
wished. By this time it was dark and they were quite ready to rest. They
put out the fire and raked up the beds of leaves on which they would
spread their blankets. But first they enjoyed the relaxation of the
nerves and the easy talk that come after a day's work well done.

"It certainly has been a fine day for us," said Obed. "Sometimes I like
to go through the bad days, because it makes the good days that follow
all the better. Yesterday we were wandering around in the snow, and we
had nothing, to-day we have a magnificent city home, that is to say, the
cabin, and a beautiful country place, that is to say, this grove. I can
add, too, that our nights in our country place are spent to the
accompaniment of music. Listen to that beautiful song, won't you?"

A long, whining howl rose, sank and died. After an interval they heard
its exact duplicate and the Panther remarked tersely:

"Wolves. Mighty hungry, too. They've smelled our buffalo meat and they
want it. Guess from their big voices that they're timber wolves and not
coyotes."

Ned knew that the timber wolf was a much larger and fiercer animal than
his prairie brother, and he did not altogether like this whining sound
which now rose and died for the third time.

"Must be a dozen or so," said the Panther, noticing the increasing
volume of sound. "We'll light the fire again. Nothing is smarter than a
wolf, an' I don't want one of those hulkin' brutes to slip up, seize a
fine piece of buffalo and dash away with it. But fire will hold 'em. How
a wolf does dread it! The little red flame is like a knife in his
heart."

They lighted four small fires, making a rude ring which inclosed their
leafy beds and the buffalo skins and meat. Before they finished the task
they saw slim dusky figures among the trees and red eyes glaring at
them. The Panther picked up a stick blazing like a torch, and made a
sudden rush for one of the figures. There was a howl of terror and a
sound of something rushing madly through the bushes.

The Panther flung his torch as far as he could in the direction of the
sounds and returned, laughing deep in his throat.

"I think I came pretty near hittin' the master wolf with that," he said,
"an' I guess he's good an' scared. But they'll come back after a while,
an' don't you forget it. For that reason, I think we'd better keep a
watch. We'll divide it into three hours apiece, an' we'll give you the
first, Ned."

Ned was glad to have the opening watch, as it would soon be over and
done with, and then he could sleep free from care about any watch to
come. The Panther and Obed rolled in their blankets, found sleep almost
instantly, and the boy, resolved not to be a careless sentinel, walked
in a circle just outside the fires.

Sure enough, and just as the Panther had predicted, he saw the red eyes
and dusky forms again. Now and then he heard a faint pad among the
bushes, and he knew that a wolf had made it. He merely changed from the
outside to the inside of the fire ring, and continued his walk. With the
fire about him and his friends so near he was not afraid of wolves, no
matter how big and numerous they might be.

Yet their presence in the bushes, the light shuffle of their feet and
their fiery eyes had an uncanny effect. It was unpleasant to know that
such fierce beasts were so near, and he gave himself a reassuring glance
at the sleeping forms of his partners. By and by the red eyes melted
away, and he heard another soft tread, but heavier than that of the
wolves. With his rifle lying in the hollow of his arm and his finger on
the trigger he looked cautiously about the circle of the forest.

Ned's gaze at last met that of a pair of red eyes, a little further
apart than those of the wolves. He knew then that they belonged to a
larger animal, and presently he caught a glimpse of the figure. He was
sure that it was a puma or cougar, and so far as he could judge it was a
big brute. It, too, must be very hungry, or it would not dare the fire
and the human odor.

Ned felt tentatively of his rifle, but changed his mind. He remembered
the Panther's exploit with the firebrand, and he decided to imitate it,
but on a much larger scale. He laid down his rifle, but kept his left
hand on the butt of the pistol in his belt. Then selecting the largest
torch from the fire he made a rush straight for the blazing eyes,
thrusting the flaming stick before him. There was a frightened roar, and
then the sound of a heavy body crashing away through the undergrowth.
Ned returned, satisfied that he had done as well as the Panther and
better.

Both the Panther and Obed were awake and sitting up. They looked
curiously at Ned, who still carried the flaming brand in his hand.

"A noise like the sound of thunder away off wakened me up," said the
Panther. "Now, what have you been up to, young 'un?"

"Me?" said Ned lightly. "Oh, nothing important. I wanted to make some
investigations in natural history out there in the bushes, and as I
needed a light for the purpose I took it."

"An' if I'm not pressin' too much," said the Panther, in mock humility,
"may I make so bold as to ask our young Solomon what is natural
history?"

"Natural history is the study of animals. I saw a panther in the bushes
and I went out there to examine him. I saw that he was a big fellow, but
he ran away so fast I could tell no more about him."

"You scared him away with the torch instead of shooting," said Obed. "It
was well done, but it took a stout heart. If he comes again tell him I
won't wake up until it's time for my watch."

He was asleep again inside of a minute, and the Panther followed him
quickly. Both men trusted Ned fully, treating him now as an experienced
and skilled frontiersman. He knew it, and he felt proud and encouraged.

The panther did not come back, but the wolves did, although Ned now paid
no attention to them. He was growing used to their company and the
uncanny feeling departed. He merely replenished the fires and sat
patiently until it was time for Obed to succeed him. Then he, too,
wrapped himself in his blankets and slept a dreamless sleep until day.

The remainder of the buffalo meat was taken away the next day, but
anticipating a long stay at the cabin they continued to hunt, both on
horseback and on foot. Two more buffalo cows fell to their rifles. They
also secured a deer, three antelope and a dozen wild turkeys.

Their hunting spread over two days, but when they were all assembled on
the third night at the cabin general satisfaction prevailed. They had
ranged over considerable country, and as game was plentiful and not
afraid the Panther drew the logical conclusion that man had been scarce
in that region.

"I take it," he said, "that the Mexicans are a good distance east, and
that the Lipans and Comanches are another good distance west. Just the
same, boys, we've got to keep a close watch, an' I think we've got more
to fear from raidin' parties of the Indians than from the Mexicans. All
the Mexicans are likely to be ridin' to some point on the Rio Grande to
meet the forces of Santa Anna."

"I wish we had more horses," said Obed. "We'd go that way ourselves and
see what's up."

"Well, maybe we'll get 'em," said the Panther. "Thar's a lot of horses
on these plains, some of which ought to belong to us an' we may find a
way of claimin' our rights."

They passed a number of pleasant days at the cabin and in hunting and
foraging in the vicinity. They killed more big game and the dressed
skins of buffalo, bear and deer were spread on the floor or were hung on
the walls. Wild turkeys were numerous, and they had them for food every
day. But they discovered no signs of man, white or red, and they would
have been content to wait there had they not been so anxious to
investigate the reported advance of Santa Anna on the Rio Grande.

Roylston was the most patient of them all, or at least he said the
least.

"I think," he said about the fourth or fifth day, "that it does not hurt
to linger here. The Mexican power has not yet gathered in full. As for
me, personally, it suits me admirably. I can walk a full two hundred
yards now, and next week I shall be able to walk a mile."

"When we are all ready to depart, which way do you intend to go Mr.
Roylston?" asked Ned.

"I wish to go around the settlements and then to New Orleans," replied
Roylston. "That city is my headquarters, but I also have establishments
elsewhere, even as far north as New York. Are you sure, Ned, that you
cannot go with me and bring your friend Allen, too? I could make men of
you both in a vast commercial world. There have been great
opportunities, and greater are coming. The development of this mighty
southwest will call for large and bold schemes of organization. It is
not money alone that I offer, but the risk, the hopes and rewards of a
great game, in fact, the opening of a new world to civilization, for
such this southwest is. It appeals to some deeper feeling than that
which can be aroused by the mere making of money."

Ned, deeply interested, watched him intently as he spoke. He saw
Roylston show emotion for the first time, and the mind of the boy
responded to that of the man. He could understand this dream. The image
of a great Texan republic was already in the minds of men. It possessed
that of Ned. He did not believe that the Texans and Mexicans could ever
get along together, and he was quite sure that Texas could never return
to its original position as part of a Mexican state.

"You can do much for Texas there with me in New Orleans," said Roylston,
as if he were making a final appeal to one whom he looked upon almost as
a son. "Perhaps you could do more than you can here in Texas."

Ned shook his head a little sadly. He did not like to disappoint this
man, but he could not leave the field. Young Allen also said that he
would remain.

"Be it so," said Roylston. "It is young blood. Never was there a truer
saying than 'Young men for war, old men for counsel.' But the time may
come when you will need me. When it does come send the word."

Ned judged from Roylston's manner that dark days were ahead, but the
merchant did not mention the subject again. At the end of a week, when
they were amply supplied with everything except horses, the Panther
decided to take Ned and Obed and go on a scout toward the Rio Grande.
They started early in the morning and the horses, which had obtained
plenty of grass, were full of life and vigor.

They soon left the narrow belt of forest far behind them, maintaining an
almost direct course toward the southeast. The point on the river that
they intended to reach was seventy or eighty miles away, and they did
not expect to cover the distance in less than two days.

They rode all that day and did not see a trace of a human being, but
they did see both buffalo and antelope in the distance.

"It shows what the war has done," said the Panther. "I rode over these
same prairies about a year ago an' game was scarce, but there were some
men. Now the men are all gone an' the game has come back. Cur'us how
quick buffalo an' deer an' antelope learn about these things."

They slept the night through on the open prairie, keeping watch by
turns. The weather was cold, but they had their good blankets with them
and they took no discomfort. They rode forward again early in the
morning, and about noon struck an old but broad trail. It was evident
that many men and many wagons had passed here. There were deep ruts in
the earth, cut by wheels, and the traces of footsteps showed over a
belt a quarter of a mile wide.

"Well, Ned, I s'pose you can make a purty good guess what this means?"
said the Panther.

"This was made weeks and weeks ago," replied Ned confidently, "and the
men who made it were Mexicans. They were soldiers, the army of Cos, that
we took at San Antonio, and which we allowed to retire on parole into
Mexico."

"There's no doubt you're right," said the Panther. "There's no other
force in this part of the world big enough to make such a wide an'
lastin' trail. An' I think it's our business to follow these tracks.
What do you say, Obed?"

"It's just the one thing in the world that we're here to do," said the
Maine man. "Broad is the path and straight is the way that leads before
us, and we follow on."

"Do we follow them down into Mexico?" said Ned.

"I don't think it likely that we'll have to do it," replied the Panther,
glancing at Obed.

Ned caught the look and he understood.

"Do you mean," he asked, "that Cos, after taking his parole and pledging
his word that he and his troops would not fight against us, would stop
at the Rio Grande?"

"I mean that an' nothin' else," replied the Panther. "I ain't talkin'
ag'in Mexicans in general. I've knowed some good men among them, but I
wouldn't take the word of any of that crowd of generals, Santa Anna,
Cos, Sesma, Urrea, Gaona, Castrillon, the Italian Filisola, or any of
them."

"There's one I'd trust," said Ned, with grateful memory, "and that's
Almonte."

"I've heard that he's of different stuff," said the Panther, "but it's
best to keep out of their hands."

They were now riding swiftly almost due southward, having changed their
course to follow the trail, and they kept a sharp watch ahead for
Mexican scouts or skirmishers. But the bare country in its winter brown
was lone and desolate. The trail led straight ahead, and it would have
been obvious now to the most inexperienced eye that an army had passed
that way. They saw remains of camp fires, now and then the skeleton of a
horse or mule picked clean by buzzards, fragments of worn-out clothing
that had been thrown aside, and once a broken-down wagon. Two or three
times they saw little mounds of earth with rude wooden crosses stuck
upon them, to mark where some of the wounded had died and had been
buried.

They came at last to a bit of woodland growing about a spring that
seemed to gush straight up from the earth. It was really an open grove
with no underbrush, a splendid place for a camp. It was evident that
Cos's force had put it to full use, as the earth nearly everywhere had
been trodden by hundreds of feet, and the charred pieces of wood were
innumerable. The Panther made a long and critical examination of
everything.

"I'm thinkin'," he said, "that Cos stayed here three or four days. All
the signs p'int that way. He was bound by the terms we gave him at San
Antonio to go an' not fight ag'in, but he's shorely takin' his time
about it. Look at these bones, will you? Now, Ned, you promisin' scout
an' skirmisher, tell me what they are."

"Buffalo bones," replied Ned promptly.

"Right you are," replied the Panther, "an' when Cos left San Antonio he
wasn't taking any buffaloes along with him to kill fur meat. They staid
here so long that the hunters had time to go out an' shoot game."

"A long lane's the thief of time," said Obed, "and having a big march
before him, Cos has concluded to walk instead of run."

"'Cause he was expectin' somethin' that would stop him," said the
Panther angrily. "I hate liars an' traitors. Well, we'll soon see."

Their curiosity became so great that they rode at a swift trot on the
great south trail, and not ten miles further they came upon the
unmistakable evidences of another big camp that had lasted long.

"Slower an' slower," muttered the Panther. "They must have met a
messenger. Wa'al, it's fur us to go slow now, too."

But he said aloud:

"Boys, it ain't more'n twenty miles now to the Rio Grande, an' we can
hit it by dark. But I'm thinkin' that we'd better be mighty keerful now
as we go on."

"I suppose it's because Mexican scouts and skirmishers may be watching,"
said Ned.

"Yes, an' 'specially that fellow Urrea. His uncle bein' one of Santa
Anna's leadin' gen'rals, he's likely to have freer rein, an', as we
know, he's clever an' active. I'd hate to fall into his hands again."

They rode more slowly, and three pairs of eyes continually searched the
plain for an enemy. Ned's sight was uncommonly acute, and Obed and the
Panther frequently appealed to him as a last resort. It flattered his
pride and he strove to justify it.

Their pace became slower and slower, and presently the early twilight of
winter was coming. A cold wind moaned, but the desolate plain was broken
here and there by clumps of trees. At the suggestion of the Panther
they rode to one of these and halted under cover of the timber.

"The river can't be much more than a mile ahead," said the Panther, "an'
we might run into the Mexicans any minute. We're sheltered here, an'
we'd better wait a while. Then I think we can do more stalkin'."

Obed and Ned were not at all averse, and dismounting they stretched
themselves, easing their muscles. Old Jack hunted grass and, finding
none, rubbed Ned's elbow with his nose suggestively.

"Never mind, old boy," said Ned, patting the glossy muzzle of his
faithful comrade. "This is no time for feasting and banqueting. We are
hunting Mexicans, you and I, and after that business is over we may
consider our pleasures."

They remained several hours among the trees. They saw the last red glow
that the sun leaves in the west die away. They saw the full darkness
descend over the earth, and then the stars come trooping out. After that
they saw a scarlet flush under the horizon which was not a part of the
night and its progress. The Panther noted it, and his great face
darkened. He turned to Ned.

"You see it, don't you? Now tell me what it is."

"That light, I should say, comes from the fires of an army. And it can
be no other army than that of Cos."

"Right again, ain't he, Obed?"

"He surely is. Cos and his men are there. He who breaks his faith when
he steals away will have to fight another day. How far off would you say
that light is, Panther?"

"'Bout two miles, an' in an hour or so we'll ride fur it. The night will
darken up more then, an' it will give us a better chance for lookin' an
listenin'. I'll be mightily fooled if we don't find out a lot that's
worth knowin'."

True to Obed's prediction, the night deepened somewhat within the hour.
Many of the stars were hidden by floating wisps of cloud, and objects
could not be seen far on the dusky surface of the plain. But the
increased darkness only made the scarlet glow in the south deepen. It
seemed, too, to spread far to right and left.

"That's a big force," said the Panther. "It'll take a lot of fires to
make a blaze like that."

"I'm agreeing with you," said Obed. "I'm thinking that those are the
camp fires of more men than Cos took from San Antonio with him."

"Which would mean," said Ned, "that another Mexican army had come north
to join him."

"Anyhow, we'll soon see," said the Panther.

They mounted their horses and rode cautiously toward the light.




CHAPTER V

SANTA ANNA'S ADVANCE


The three rode abreast, Ned in the center. The boy was on terms of
perfect equality with Obed and the Panther. They treated him as a man
among men, and respected his character, rather grave for one so young,
and always keen to learn.

The land rolled away in swells as usual throughout a great part of
Texas, but they were not of much elevation and the red glow in the south
was always in sight, deepening fast as they advanced. They stopped at
last on a little elevation within the shadow of some myrtle oaks, and
saw the fires spread before them only four or five hundred yards away,
and along a line of at least two miles. They heard the confused murmur
of many men. The dark outlines of cannon were seen against the
firelight, and now and then the musical note of a mandolin or guitar
came to them.

"We was right in our guess," said the Panther. "It's a lot bigger force
than the one that Cos led away from San Antonio, an' it will take a heap
of rippin' an' t'arin' an' roarin' to turn it back. Our people don't
know how much is comin' ag'in 'em."

The Panther spoke in a solemn tone. Ned saw that he was deeply impressed
and that he feared for the future. Good cause had he. Squabbles among
the Texan leaders had reduced their army to five or six hundred men.

"Don't you think," said Ned, "that we ought to find out just exactly
what is here, and what this army intends?"

"Not a doubt of it," said Obed. "Those who have eyes to see should not
go away without seeing."

The Panther nodded violently in assent.

"We must scout about the camp," he said. "Mebbe we'd better divide an'
then we can all gather before day-break at the clump of trees back
there."

He pointed to a little cluster of trees several hundred yards back of
them, and Ned and Obed agreed. The Panther turned away to the right,
Obed to the left and Ned took the center. Their plan of dividing their
force had a great advantage. One man was much less likely than three to
attract undue attention.

Ned went straight ahead a hundred yards or more, when he was stopped by
an arroyo five or six feet wide and with very deep banks. He looked
about, uncertain at first what to do. Obed and the Panther had already
disappeared in the dusk. Before him glowed the red light, and he heard
the distant sound of many voices.

Ned quickly decided. He remembered how they had escaped up the bed of
the creek when they were besieged by Urrea, and if one could leave by an
arroyo, one could also approach by it. He rode to the group of trees
that had been designated as the place of meeting, and left his horse
there. He noticed considerable grass within the ring of trunks, and he
was quite confident that Old Jack would remain there until his return.
But he addressed to him words of admonition:

"Be sure that you stay among these trees, old friend," he said, "because
it's likely that when I want you I'll want you bad. Remain and attend to
this grass."

Old Jack whinnied softly and, after his fashion, rubbed his nose gently
against his master's arm. It was sufficient for Ned. He was sure that
the horse understood, and leaving him he went back to the arroyo, which
he entered without hesitation.

Ned was well armed, as every one then had full need to be. He wore a
sombrero in the Mexican fashion, and flung over his shoulders was a
great serape which he had found most useful in the winter. With his
perfect knowledge of Spanish and its Mexican variants he believed that
if surprised he could pass as a Mexican, particularly in the night and
among so many.

The arroyo led straight down toward the plain upon which the Mexicans
were encamped, and when he emerged from it he saw that the fires which
at a distance looked like one continuous blaze were scores in number.
Many of them were built of buffalo chips and others of light wood that
burned fast. Sentinels were posted here and there, but they kept little
watch. Why should they? Here was a great Mexican army, and there was
certainly no foe amounting to more than a few men within a hundred
miles.

Ned's heart sank as he beheld the evident extent of the Mexican array.
The little Texan force left in the field could be no match for such an
army as this.

Nevertheless, his resolution to go through the Mexican camp hardened. If
he came back with a true and detailed tale of their numbers the Texans
must believe and prepare. He drew the brim of his sombrero down a little
further, and pulled his serape up to meet it. The habit the Mexicans had
of wrapping their serapes so high that they were covered to the nose was
fortunate at this time. He was now completely disguised, without the
appearance of having taken any unusual precaution.

He walked forward boldly and sat down with a group beside a fire. He
judged by the fact that they were awake so late that they had but little
to do, and he saw at once also that they were Mexicans from the far
south. They were small, dark men, rather amiable in appearance. Two
began to play guitars and they sang a plaintive song to the music. The
others, smoking cigarritos, listened attentively and luxuriously. Ned
imitated them perfectly. He, too, lying upon his elbow before the
pleasant fire, felt the influence of the music, so sweet, so murmurous,
speaking so little of war. One of the men handed him a cigarrito, and,
lighting it, he made pretense of smoking--he would not have seemed a
Mexican had he not smoked the cigarrito.

Lying there, Ned saw many tents, evidence of a camp that was not for the
day only, and he beheld officers in bright uniforms passing among them.
His heart gave a great jump when he noticed among them a heavy-set, dark
man. It was Cos, Cos the breaker of oaths. With him was another officer
whose uniform indicated the general. Ned learned later that this was
Sesma, who had been dispatched with a brigade by Santa Anna to meet Cos
on the Rio Grande, where they were to remain until the dictator himself
came with more troops.

The music ceased presently and one of the men said to Ned:

"What company?"

Ned had prepared himself for such questions, and he moved his hand
vaguely toward the left.

"Over there," he said.

They were fully satisfied, and continued to puff their cigarritos,
resting their heads with great content upon pillows made of their
saddles and blankets. For a while they said nothing more, happily
watching the rings of smoke from their cigarritos rise and melt into the
air. Although small and short, they looked hardy and strong. Ned
noticed the signs of bustle and expectancy about the camp. Usually
Mexicans were asleep at this hour, and he wondered why they lingered.
But he did not approach the subject directly.

"A hard march," he said, knowing that these men about him had come a
vast distance.

"Aye, it was," said the man next on his right. "Santiago, but was it
not, José?"

José, the second man on the right, replied in the affirmative and with
emphasis:

"You speak the great truth, Carlos. Such another march I never wish to
make. Think of the hundreds and hundreds of miles we have tramped from
our warm lands far in the south across mountains, across bare and windy
deserts, with the ice and the snow beating in our faces. How I shivered,
Carlos, and how long I shivered! I thought I should continue shivering
all my life even if I lived to be a hundred, no matter how warmly the
sun might shine."

The others laughed, and seemed to Ned to snuggle a little closer to the
fire, driven by the memory of the icy plains.

"But it was the will of the great Santa Anna, surely the mightiest man
of our age," said Carlos. "They say that his wrath was terrible when he
heard how the Texan bandits had taken San Antonio de Bexar. Truly, I am
glad that I was not one of his officers, and that I was not in his
presence at the time. After all, it is sometimes better to be a common
soldier than to have command."

"Aye, truly," said Ned, and the others nodded in affirmation.

"But the great Santa Anna will finish it," continued Carlos, who seemed
to have the sin of garrulity. "He has defeated all his enemies in
Mexico, he has consolidated his power and now he advances with a mighty
force to crush these insolent and miserable Texans. As I have said, he
will finish it. The rope and the bullet will be busy. In six months
there will be no Texans."

Ned shivered, and when he looked at the camp fires of the great army he
saw that this peon was not talking foolishness. Nevertheless his mind
returned to its original point of interest. Why did the Mexican army
remain awake so late?

"Have you seen the President?" he asked of Carlos.

"Often," replied Carlos, with pride. "I fought under him in the great
battle on the plain of Guadalupe less than two years ago, when we
defeated Don Francisco Garcia, the governor of Zacatecas. Ah, it was a
terrible battle, my friends! Thousands and thousands were killed and all
Mexicans. Mexicans killing Mexicans. But who can prevail against the
great Santa Anna? He routed the forces of Garcia, and the City of
Zacatecas was given up to us to pillage. Many fine things I took that
day from the houses of those who presumed to help the enemy of our
leader. But now we care not to kill Mexicans, our own people. It is only
the miserable Texans who are really Gringos."

Carlos, who had been the most amiable of men, basking in the firelight,
now rose up a little and his eyes flashed. He had excited himself by his
own tale of the battle and loot of Zacatecas and the coming slaughter of
the Texans. That strain of cruelty, which in Ned's opinion always lay
embedded in the Spanish character, was coming to the surface.

Ned made no comment. His serape, drawn up to his nose, almost met the
brim of his sombrero and nobody suspected that the comrade who sat and
chatted with them was a Gringo, but he shivered again, nevertheless.

"We shall have a great force when it is all gathered," he said at
length.

"Seven thousand men or more," said José proudly, "and nearly all of them
are veterans of the wars. We shall have ten times the numbers of the
Texans, who are only hunters and rancheros."

"Have you heard when we march?" asked Ned, in a careless tone.

"As soon as the great Santa Anna arrives it will be decided, I doubt
not," said José. "The general and his escort should be here by
midnight."

Ned's heart gave a leap. So it was that for which they were waiting.
Santa Anna himself would come in an hour or two. He was very glad that
he had entered the Mexican camp. Bidding a courteous good night to the
men about the fire, he rose and sauntered on. It was easy enough for him
to do so without attracting attention, as many others were doing the
same thing. Discipline seldom amounted to much in a Mexican army, and so
confident were both officers and soldiers of an overwhelming victory
that they preserved scarcely any at all. Yet the expectant feeling
pervaded the whole camp, and now that he knew that Santa Anna was coming
he understood.

Santa Anna was the greatest man in the world to these soldiers. He had
triumphed over everything in their own country. He had exhibited
qualities of daring and energy that seemed to them supreme, and his
impression upon them was overwhelming. Ned felt once more that little
shiver. They might be right in their view of the Texan war.

He strolled on from fire to fire, until his attention was arrested
suddenly by one at which only officers sat. It was not so much the group
as it was one among them who drew his notice so strongly. Urrea was
sitting on the far side of the fire, every feature thrown into clear
relief by the bright flames. The other officers were young men of about
his own age and they were playing dice. They were evidently in high good
humor, as they laughed frequently.

Ned lay down just within the shadow of a tent wall, drew his serape
higher about his face, and rested his head upon his arm. He would have
seemed sound asleep to an ordinary observer, but he was never more wide
awake in his life. He was near enough to hear what Urrea and his friends
were saying, and he intended to hear it. It was for such that he had
come.

"You lose, Francisco," said one of the men as he made a throw of the
dice and looked eagerly at the result. "What was it that you were saying
about the general?"

"That I expect an early advance, Ramon," replied Urrea, "a brief
campaign, and a complete victory. I hate these Texans. I shall be glad
to see them annihilated."

The young officer whom he called Ramon laughed.

"If what I hear be true, Francisco," he said, "you have cause to hate
them. There was a boy, Fulton, that wild buffalo of a man, whom they
call the Panther, and another who defeated some of your finest plans."

Urrea flushed, but controlled his temper.

"It is true, Ramon," he replied. "The third man I can tell you is called
Obed White, and they are a clever three. I hate them, but it hurts my
pride less to be defeated by them than by any others whom I know."

"Well spoken, Urrea," said a third man, "but since these three are
fighters and will stay to meet us, it is a certainty that our general
will scoop them into his net. Then you can have all the revenge you
wish."

"I count upon it, Ambrosio," said Urrea, smiling. "I also hope that we
shall recapture the man Roylston. He has great sums of money in the
foreign banks in our country, and we need them, but our illustrious
president cannot get them without an order from Roylston. The general
would rather have Roylston than a thousand Texan prisoners."

All of them laughed, and the laugh made Ned, lying in the shadow, shiver
once more. Urrea glanced his way presently, but the recumbent figure did
not claim his notice. The attention of his comrades and himself became
absorbed in the dice again. They were throwing the little ivory cubes
upon a blanket, and Ned could hear them click as they struck together.
The sharp little sound began to flick his nerves. Not one to cherish
resentment, he nevertheless began to hate Urrea, and he included in that
hatred the young men with him. The Texans were so few and poor. The
Mexicans were so many, and they had the resources of a nation more than
two centuries old.

Ned rose by and by and walked on. He could imitate the Mexican gait
perfectly, and no one paid any attention to him. They were absorbed,
moreover, in something else, because now the light of torches could be
seen dimly in the south. Officers threw down cards and dice. Men
straightened their uniforms and Cos and Sesma began to form companies in
line. More fuel was thrown on the fires, which sprang up, suffusing all
the night with color and brightness. Ned with his rifle at salute fell
into place at the end of one of the companies, and no one knew that he
did not belong there. In the excitement of the moment he forgot all
about the Panther and Obed.

A thrill seemed to run through the whole Mexican force. It was the most
impressive scene that Ned had ever beheld. A leader, omnipotent in
their eyes, was coming to these men, and he came at midnight out of the
dark into the light.

The torches grew brighter. A trumpet pealed and a trumpet in the camp
replied. The Mexican lines became silent save for a deep murmur. In the
south they heard the rapid beat of hoofs, and then Santa Anna came,
galloping at the head of fifty horsemen. Many of the younger officers
ran forward, holding up torches, and the dictator rode in a blaze of
light.

Ned looked once more upon that dark and singular face, a face daring and
cruel, that might have belonged to one of the old conquistadores. In the
saddle his lack of height was concealed, but on the great white horse
that he rode Ned felt that he was an imposing, even a terrible, figure.
His eyes were blazing with triumph as his army united with torches to do
him honor. It was like Napoleon on the night before Austerlitz, and what
was he but the Napoleon of the New World? His figure swelled and the
gold braid on his cocked hat and gorgeous uniform reflected the beams of
the firelight.

A mighty cheer from thousands of throats ran along the Mexican line, and
the torches were waved until they looked like vast circles of fire.
Santa Anna lifted his hat and bowed three times in salute. Again the
Mexican cheer rolled to right and to left. Santa Anna, still sitting on
his horse, spread out his hands. There was instant silence save for the
deep breathing of the men.

"My children," he said, "I have come to sweep away these miserable
Texans who have dared to raise the rebel flag against us. We will punish
them all. Houston, Austin, Bowie and the rest of their leaders shall
feel our justice. When we finish our march over their prairies it shall
be as if a great fire had passed. I have said it. I am Santa Anna."

The thunderous cheer broke forth again. Ned had never before heard words
so full of conceit and vainglory, yet the strength and menace were
there. He felt it instinctively. Santa Anna believed himself to be the
greatest man in the world, and he was certainly the greatest in Mexico.
His belief in himself was based upon a deep well of energy and daring.
Once more Ned felt a great and terrible fear for Texas, and the thin
line of skin-clad hunters and ranchmen who were its sole defence. But
the feeling passed as he watched Santa Anna. A young officer rushed
forward and held his stirrup as the dictator dismounted. Then the
generals, including those who had come with him, crowded around him. It
was a brilliant company, including Sesma, Cos, Duque, Castrillon, Tolsa,
Gaona and others, among whom Ned noted a man of decidedly Italian
appearance. This was General Vincente Filisola, an Italian officer who
had received a huge grant of land in Texas, and who was now second in
command to Santa Anna.

Ned watched them as they talked together and occasionally the crowd
parted enough for him to see Santa Anna, who spoke and gesticulated with
great energy. The soldiers had been drawn away by the minor officers,
and were now dispersing to their places by the fires where they would
seek sleep.

Ned noticed a trim, slender figure on the outer edge of the group around
Santa Anna. It seemed familiar, and when the man turned he recognized
the face of Almonte, the gallant young Mexican colonel who had been kind
to him. He was sorry to see him there. He was sorry that he should have
to fight against him.

Santa Anna went presently to a great marquée that had been prepared for
him, and the other generals retired also to the tents that had been set
about it. The dictator was tired from his long ride and must not be
disturbed. Strict orders were given that there should be no noise in the
camp, and it quickly sank into silence.

Ned lay down before one of the fires at the western end of the camp
wrapped as before in his serape. He counterfeited sleep, but nothing was
further from his mind. It seemed to him that he had done all he could do
in the Mexican camp. He had seen the arrival of Santa Anna, but there
was no way to learn when the general would order an advance. But he
could infer from Santa Anna's well-known energy and ability that it
would come quickly.

Between the slit left by the brim of his sombrero and his serape he
watched the great fires die slowly. Most of the Mexicans were asleep
now, and their figures were growing indistinct in the shadows. But Ned,
rising, slouched forward, imitating the gait of the laziest of the
Mexicans. Yet his eyes were always watching shrewdly through the slit.
Very little escaped his notice. He went along the entire Mexican line
and then back again. He had a good mathematical mind, and he saw that
the estimate of 7,000 for the Mexican army was not too few. He also saw
many cannon and the horses for a great cavalry force. He knew, too, that
Santa Anna had with him the best regiments in the Mexican service.

On his last trip along the line Ned began to look for the Panther and
Obed, but he saw no figures resembling theirs, although he was quite
sure that he would know the Panther in any disguise owing to his great
size. This circumstance would make it more dangerous for the Panther
than for either Obed or himself, as Urrea, if he should see so large a
man, would suspect that it was none other than the redoubtable
frontiersman.

Ned was thinking of this danger to the Panther when he came face to face
with Urrea himself. The young Mexican captain was not lacking in
vigilance and energy, and even at that late hour he was seeing that all
was well in the camp of Santa Anna. Ned was truly thankful now that
Mexican custom and the coldness of the night permitted him to cover his
face with his serape and the brim of his sombrero.

"Why are you walking here?" demanded Urrea.

"I've just taken a message to General Castrillon," replied Ned.

He had learned already that Castrillon commanded the artillery, and as
he was at least a mile away he thought this the safest reply.

"From whom?" asked Urrea shortly.

"Pardon, sir," replied Ned, in his best Spanish, disguising his voice as
much as possible, "but I am not allowed to tell."

Ned's tone was courteous and apologetic, and in ninety-nine cases out of
a hundred Urrea would have contented himself with an impatient word or
two. But he was in a most vicious temper. Perhaps he had been rebuked by
Santa Anna for allowing the rescue of Roylston.

"Why don't you speak up?" he exclaimed. "Why do you mumble your words,
and why do you stand in such a slouching manner. Remember that a soldier
should stand up straight."

"Yes, my captain," said Ned, but he did not change his attitude. The
tone and manner of Urrea angered him. He forgot where he was and his
danger.

Urrea's swarthy face flushed. He carried in his hand a small riding
whip, which he switched occasionally across the tops of his tall,
military boots.

"Lout!" he cried. "You hear me! Why do you not obey!"

Ned stood impassive. Certainly Urrea had had a bad half hour somewhere.
His temper leaped beyond control.

"Idiot!" he exclaimed.

Then he suddenly lashed Ned across the face with the little riding whip.
The blow fell on serape and sombrero and the flesh was not touched, but
for a few moments Ned went mad. He dropped his rifle, leaped upon the
astonished officer, wrenched the whip from his hands, slashed him across
the cheeks with it until the blood ran in streams, then broke it in two
and threw the pieces in his face. Ned's serape fell away. Urrea had
clasped his hands to his cheeks that stung like fire, but now he
recognized the boy.

"Fulton!" he cried.

The sharp exclamation brought Ned to a realization of his danger. He
seized his rifle, pulled up the serape and sprang back. Already Mexican
soldiers were gathering. It was truly fortunate for Ned that he was
quick of thought, and that his thoughts came quickest when the danger
was greatest. He knew that the cry of "Fulton!" was unintelligible to
them, and he exclaimed:

"Save me, comrades! He tried to beat me without cause, and now he would
kill me, as you see!"

Urrea had drawn a pistol and was shouting fiery Mexican oaths. The
soldiers, some of them just awakened from sleep, and all of them dazed,
had gathered in a huddle, but they opened to let Ned pass. Excessive and
cruel punishment was common among them. A man might be flogged half to
death at the whim of an officer, and instinctively they protected their
comrade.

As the Mexican group closed up behind him, and between him and Urrea,
Ned ran at top speed toward the west where the arroyo cut across the
plain. More Mexicans were gathering, and there was great confusion.
Everybody was asking what was the matter. The boy's quick wit did not
desert him. There was safety in ignorance and the multitude.

He quickly dropped to a walk and he, too, began to ask of others what
had caused the trouble. All the while he worked steadily toward the
arroyo, and soon he left behind him the lights and the shouting. He now
came into the dark, passed beyond the Mexican lines, and entered the cut
in the earth down which he had come.

He was compelled to sit down on the sand and relax. He was exhausted by
the great effort of both mind and body which had carried him through so
much danger. His heart was beating heavily and he felt dizzy. But his
eyes cleared presently and his strength came back. He considered himself
safe. In the darkness it was not likely that any of the Mexicans would
stumble upon him.

He thought of the Panther and Obed, but he could do nothing for them. He
must trust to meeting them again at the place appointed. He looked at
the Mexican camp. The fires had burned up again there for a minute or
two, but as he looked they sank once more. The noise also decreased.
Evidently they were giving up the pursuit.

Ned rose and walked slowly up the arroyo. He became aware that the night
was very cold and it told on his relaxed frame. He pulled up the serape
again, and now it was for warmth and not for disguise. He stopped at
intervals to search the darkness with his eyes and to listen for noises.
He might meet with an enemy or he might meet with one of his friends. He
was prepared for either. He had regained control of himself both body
and mind, and his ready rifle rested in the hollow of his arm.

He met neither. He heard nothing but the usual sighing of the prairie
wind that ceased rarely, and he saw nothing but the faint glow on the
southern horizon that marked the Mexican camp where he had met his
enemy.

He left the arroyo, and saw a dark shadow on the plain, the figure of a
man, rifle in hand, Ned instantly sprang back into the arroyo and the
stranger did the same. A curve in the line of this cut in the earth now
hid them from each other, and Ned, his body pressed against the bank,
waited with beating heart. He had no doubt that it was a Mexican
sentinel or scout more vigilant than the others, and he felt his danger.

Ned in this crisis used the utmost caution. He did not believe that any
other would come, and it must be a test of patience between him and his
enemy. Whoever showed his head first would be likely to lose in the duel
for life. He pressed himself closer and closer against the bank, and
sought to detect some movement of the stranger. He saw nothing and he
did not hear a sound. It seemed that the man had absolutely vanished
into space. It occurred to Ned that it might have been a mere figment of
the dusk and his excited brain, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He
had seen the man and he had seen him leap into the arroyo. There could
be no doubt of it.

There was another long wait, and the suspense became acute. The man was
surely on the other side of that curve waiting for him. He was held
fast. He was almost as much a prisoner as if he lay bound in the Mexican
camp. It seemed to him, too, that the darkness was thinning a little. It
would soon be day and then he could not escape the notice of horsemen
from Santa Anna's army. He decided that he must risk an advance and he
began creeping forward cautiously. He remembered now what he had
forgotten in the first moments of the meeting. He might yet, even
before this sentinel or scout, pass as a Mexican.

He stopped suddenly when he heard a low whistle in front of him. While
it could be heard but a short distance, it was singularly sweet. It
formed the first bars of an old tune, "The World Turned Upside Down,"
and Ned promptly recognized it. The whistle stopped in a moment or two,
but Ned took up the air and continued it for a few bars more. Then, all
apprehension gone, he sprang out of the arroyo and stood upon the bank.
Another figure was projected from the arroyo and stood upon the bank
facing him, not more than twenty feet away.

Simultaneously Obed White and Edward Fulton advanced, shook hands and
laughed.

"You kept me here waiting in this gully at least half an hour," said
Obed. "Time and I waited long on you."

"But no longer than I waited on you," said Ned. "Why didn't you think of
whistling the tune sooner?"

"Why didn't you?"

They laughed and shook hands again.

"At any rate, we're here together again, safe and unharmed," said Ned.
"And now to see what has become of the Panther."

"You'd better be lookin' out for yourselves instead of the Panther,"
growled a voice, as a gigantic figure upheaved itself from the arroyo
eight or ten yards behind them. "I could have picked you both off while
you were standin' there shakin' hands, an' neither of you would never
have knowed what struck him."

"The Panther!" they exclaimed joyously, and they shook hands with him
also.

"An' now," said the Panther, "it will soon be day. We'd better make fur
our horses an' then clear out. We kin tell 'bout what we've seen an'
done when we're two or three miles away."

They found the horses safe in the brushwood, Old Jack welcoming Ned with
a soft whinny. They were in the saddle at once, rode swiftly northward,
and none of them spoke for a half hour. When a faint tinge of gray
appeared on the eastern rim of the world the Panther said:

"My tale's short. I couldn't get into the camp, 'cause I'm too big. The
very first fellow I saw looked at me with s'picion painted all over him.
So I had to keep back in the darkness. But I saw it was a mighty big
army. It can do a lot of rippin', an' t'arin', an' chawin'."

"I got into the camp," said Obed, after a minute of silence, "but as I'm
not built much like a Mexican, being eight or ten inches too tall, men
were looking at me as if I were a strange specimen. One touch of
difference and all the world's staring at you. So I concluded that I'd
better stay on the outside of the lines. I hung around, and I saw just
what Panther saw, no more and no less. Then I started back and I struck
the arroyo, which seemed to me a good way for leaving. But before I had
gone far I concluded I was followed. So I watched the fellow who was
following, and the fellow who was following watched me for about a year.
The watch was just over when you came up, Panther. It was long, but it's
a long watch that has no ending."

"And I," said Ned, after another wait of a minute, "being neither so
tall as Obed nor so big around as the Panther, was able to go about in
the Mexican camp without any notice being taken of me. I saw Santa Anna
arrive to take the chief command."

"Santa Anna himself?" exclaimed the Panther.

"Yes, Santa Anna himself. They gave him a great reception. After a while
I started to come away. I met Urrea. He took me for a peon, gave me an
order, and when I didn't obey it tried to strike me across the face with
a whip."

"And what did you do?" exclaimed the two men together.

"I took the whip away from him and lashed his cheeks with it. I was
recognized, but in the turmoil and confusion I escaped. Then I had the
encounter with Obed White, of which he has told already."

"Since Santa Anna has come," said the Panther, "they're likely to move
at any moment. We'll ride straight for the cabin an' the boys."




CHAPTER VI

FOR FREEDOM'S SAKE


Evidently the horses had found considerable grass through the night, as
they were fresh and strong, and the miles fell fast behind them. At the
gait at which they were going they would reach the cabin that night.
Meanwhile they made plans. The little force would divide and messengers
would go to San Antonio, Harrisburg and other points, with the news that
Santa Anna was advancing with an immense force.

And every one of the three knew that the need was great. They knew how
divided counsels had scattered the little Texan army. At San Antonio,
the most important point of all, the town that they had triumphantly
taken from a much greater force of Mexicans, there were practically no
men, and that undoubtedly was Santa Anna's destination. Unconsciously
they began to urge their horses to great and yet greater speed, until
the Panther recalled them to prudence.

"Slower, boys! slower!" he said. "We mustn't run our horses out at the
start."

"And there's a second reason for pulling down," said Ned, "since there's
somebody else on the plain."

His uncommon eyesight had already detected before the others the strange
presence. He pointed toward the East.

"Do you see that black speck there, where the sky touches the ground?"
he said. "If you'll watch it you'll see that it's moving. And look!
There's another! and another! and another!"

The Panther and Obed now saw the black specks also. The three stopped on
the crest of a swell and watched them attentively.

"One! two! three! four! five! six! seven! eight! nine! ten! eleven!
twelve! thirteen!" counted the far-sighted boy.

"An' them thirteen specks are thirteen men on horseback," continued the
Panther, "an' now I wonder who in the name of the great horn spoon they
are!"

"Suppose we see," said Obed. "All things are revealed to him who
looks--at least most of the time. It is true that they are more than
four to our one, but our horses are swift, and we can get away."

"That's right," said the Panther. "Still, we oughtn't to take the risk
unless everybody is willin'. What do you say, Ned?"

"I reply 'yes,' of course," said the boy, "especially as I've an idea
that those are not Mexicans. They look too big and tall, and they sit
too straight up in their saddles for Mexicans."

"Them ideas of yours are ketchin'," said the Panther. "Them fellers may
be Mexicans, but they don't look like Mexicans, they don't act like
Mexicans, an' they ain't Mexicans."

"Take out what isn't, and you have left what is," said Obed.

"We'll soon see," said Ned.

A few minutes more and there could be no further doubt that the thirteen
were Texans or Americans. One rode a little ahead of the others, who
came on in an even line. They were mounted on large horses, but the man
in front held Ned's attention.

The leader was tall and thin, but evidently muscular and powerful. His
hair was straight and black like an Indian's. His features were angular
and tanned by the winds of many years. His body was clothed completely
in buckskin, and a raccoon skin cap was on his head. Across his shoulder
lay a rifle with a barrel of unusual length.

"Never saw any of them before," said the Panther. "By the great horn
spoon, who can that feller in front be? He looks like somebody."

The little band rode closer, and its leader held up his hand as a sign
of amity.

"Good friends," he said, in a deep clear voice, "we don't have very
close neighbors out here, and that makes a meeting all the pleasanter.
You are Texans, I guess."

"You guess right," said the Panther, in the same friendly tone. "An' are
you Texans, too?"

"That point might be debated," replied the man, in a whimsical tone,
"and after a long dispute neither I nor my partners here could say which
was right and which was wrong. But while we may not be Texans, yet we
will be right away."

His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Ned suddenly felt a strong liking for
him. He was not young and, despite his buckskin dress and careless
grammar, there was something of the man of the world about him. But he
seemed to have a certain boyishness of spirit that appealed strongly to
Ned.

"I s'pose," he continued, "that a baptism will make us genuine Texans,
an' it 'pears likely to me that we'll get that most lastin' of all
baptisms, a baptism of fire. But me an' Betsy here stand ready for it."

He patted lovingly the stock of his long rifle as he spoke the word
"Betsy." It was the same word "Betsy" that gave Ned his sudden
knowledge.

"I'm thinking that you are Davy Crockett," he said.

The man's face was illumined with an inimitable smile.

"Correct," he said. "No more and no less. Andy Jackson kept me from
going back to Washington, an' so me an' these twelve good friends of
mine, Tennesseans like myself, have come here to help free Texas."

He reached out his hand and Ned grasped it. The boy felt a thrill. The
name of Davy Crockett was a great one in the southwest, and here he was,
face to face, hands gripped with the great borderer.

"This is Mr. Palmer, known all over Texas as the Panther, and Mr. Obed
White, once of Maine, but now a Texan," said Ned, introducing his
friends.

Crockett and the Panther shook hands, and looked each other squarely in
the eye.

"Seems to me," said Crockett, "that you're a man."

"I was jest thinkin' the same of you," said the Panther.

"An' you," said Crockett to Obed White, "are a man, too. But they
certainly do grow tall where you come from."

"I'm not as wide as a barn door, but I may be long enough to reach the
bottom of a well," said Obed modestly. "Anyway, I thank you for the
compliment. Praise from Sir Davy is sweet music in my ear, indeed. And
since we Texans have to stand together, and since to stand together we
must know about one another, may I ask you, Mr. Crockett, which way you
are going?"

"We had an idea that we would go to San Antonio," said Crockett, "but
I'm never above changin' my opinion. If you think it better to go
somewhere else, an' can prove it, why me an' Betsy an' the whole crowd
are ready to go there instead."

"What would you say?" asked the Panther, "if we told you that Santa Anna
an' 7,000 men were on the Rio Grande ready to march on San Antonio?"

"If you said it, I'd say it was true. I'd also say that it was a thing
the Texans had better consider. If I was usin' adjectives I'd call it
alarmin'."

"An' what would you say if I told you there wasn't a hundred Texan
soldiers in San Antonio to meet them seven thousand Mexicans comin'
under Santa Anna?"

"If you told me that I'd say it was true. I'd say also, if I was usin'
adjectives, that it was powerful alarmin'. For Heaven's sake, Mr.
Panther, the state of affairs ain't so bad as that, is it?"

"It certainly is," replied the Panther. "Ned Fulton here was all through
their camp last night. He can talk Mexican an' Spanish like lightnin'
an' he makes up wonderful--an' he saw their whole army. He saw old Santa
Anna, too, an' fifty or a hundred generals, all covered with gold lace.
If we don't get a lot of fightin' men together an' get 'em quick, Texas
will be swept clean by that Mexican army same as if a field had been
crossed by millions of locusts."

It was obvious that Crockett was impressed deeply by these blunt
statements.

"What do you wish us to do?" he asked the Panther.

"You an' your friends come with us. We've got some good men at a cabin
in the woods that we can reach to-night. We'll join with them, raise as
many more as we can, spread the alarm everywhere, an' do everything
possible for the defence of San Antonio."

"A good plan, Mr. Panther," said Crocket. "You lead the way to this
cabin of yours, an' remember that we're servin' under you for the time
bein'."

The Panther rode on without another word and the party, now raised from
three to sixteen, followed. Crockett fell in by the side of Ned, and
soon showed that he was not averse to talking.

"A good country," he said, nodding at the landscape, "but it ain't like
Tennessee. It would take me a long time to git used to the lack of hills
an' runnin' water an' trees which just cover the state of Tennessee."

"We have them here, too," replied Ned, "though I'll admit they're
scattered. But it's a grand country to fight for."

"An' as I see it we'll have a grand lot of fightin' to do," said Davy
Crockett.

They continued at good speed until twilight, when they rested their
horses and ate of the food that they carried. The night promised to be
cold but clear, and the crisp air quickened their blood.

"How much further is it?" asked Crockett of Ned.

"Fifteen or eighteen miles, but at the rate we're going we should be
there in three hours. We've got a roof. It isn't a big one, and we don't
know who built it, but it will shelter us all."

"I ain't complainin' of that," rejoined Davy Crockett. "I'm a lover of
fresh air an' outdoors, but I don't object to a roof in cold weather.
Always take your comfort, boy, when it's offered to you. It saves wear
an' tear."

A friendship like that between him and Bowie was established already
between Ned and Crockett. Ned's grave and serious manner, the result of
the sufferings through which he had gone, invariably attracted the
attention and liking of those far older than himself.

"I'll remember your advice, Mr. Crockett," he said.

A rest of a half hour for the horses and they started riding rapidly.
After a while they struck the belt of forest and soon the cabin was not
more than a mile away. But the Panther, who was still in the lead,
pulled up his horse suddenly.

"Boys," he exclaimed, "did you hear that?"

Every man stopped his horse also and with involuntary motion bent
forward a little to listen. Then the sound that the Panther had heard
came again. It was the faint ping of a rifle shot, muffled by the
distance. In a moment they heard another and then two more. The sounds
came from the direction of their cabin.

"The boys are attacked," said the Panther calmly, "an' it's just as well
that we've come fast. But I can't think who is after 'em. There was
certainly no Mexicans in these parts yesterday, an' Urrea could not
possibly have got ahead of us with a raidin' band. But at any rate we'll
ride on an' soon see."

They proceeded with the utmost caution, and they heard the faint ping of
the rifles a half dozen times as they advanced. The nostrils of the
Panther began to distend, and streaks of red appeared on his eyeballs.
He was smelling the battle afar, and his soul rejoiced. He had spent his
whole life amid scenes of danger, and this was nature to him. Crockett
rode up by his side, and he, too, listened eagerly. He no longer carried
Betsy over his shoulder but held the long rifle across the pommel of his
saddle, his hand upon hammer and trigger.

"What do you think it is, Panther?" he asked. Already he had fallen into
the easy familiarity of the frontier.

"I can't make it out yet," replied the Panther, "but them shots shorely
came from the cabin an' places about it. Our fellows are besieged, but
I've got to guess at the besiegers, an' then I'm likely to guess wrong."

They were riding very slowly, and presently they heard a dozen shots,
coming very clearly now.

"I think we'd better stop here," said the Panther, "an' do a little
scoutin'. If you like it, Mr. Crockett, you an' me an' Ned, here, will
dismount, slip forward an' see what's the trouble. Obed will take
Command of the others, an' wait in the bushes till we come back with the
news, whatever it is."

"I'll go with you gladly," said Davy Crockett. "I'm not lookin' for
trouble with a microscope, but if trouble gets right in my path I'm not
dodgin' it. So I say once more, lead on, noble Mr. Panther, an' if Betsy
here must talk she'll talk."

The Panther grinned in the dusk. He and Davy Crockett had instantly
recognized congenial souls, each in the other.

"I can't promise you that thar'll be rippin' an' t'arin' an' roarin' an'
chawin' all the time," he said, "but between you an' me, Davy Crockett,
I've an' idee that we're not goin' to any sort of prayer meetin' this
time of night."

"No, I'm thinkin' not," said Crockett, "but if there is a scene of
turbulence before us lead on. I'm prepared for my share in it. The
debate may be lively, but I've no doubt that I'll get my chance to
speak. There are many ways to attract the attention of the Speaker.
Pardon me, Mr. Panther, but I fall naturally into the phrases of
legislative halls."

"I remember that you served two terms in Congress at Washington," said
the Panther.

"An' I'd be there yet if it wasn't for Andy Jackson. I wanted my way in
Tennessee politics an' he wanted his. He was so stubborn an' headstrong
that here I am ready to become a statesman in this new Texas which is
fightin' for its independence. An' what a change! From marble halls in
Washington to a night in the brush on the frontier, an' with an unknown
enemy before you."

They stopped talking now and, kneeling down in a thicket, began to creep
forward. The cabin was not more than four or five hundred yards away,
but a long silence had succeeded the latest shots, and after an advance
of thirty or forty yards they lay still for a while. Then they heard two
shots ahead of them, and saw little pink dots of flame from the
exploding gunpowder.

"It cannot be Mexicans who are besieging the cabin," said Ned. "They
would shout or make some kind of a noise. We have not heard a thing but
the rifle shots."

"Your argyment is good," whispered the Panther. "Look! Did you see that
figure passin' between us an' the cabin?"

"I saw it," said Davy Crockett, "an' although it was but a glimpse an'
this is night it did not seem to me to be clad in full Christian
raiment. I am quite sure it is not the kind of costume that would be
admitted to the galleries of Congress."

"You're right, doubly right," said the Panther. "That was an Injun you
saw, but whether a Comanche or a Lipan I couldn't tell. The boys are
besieged not by Mexicans, but by Injuns. Hark to that!"

There was a flash from the cabin, a dusky figure in the woods leaped
into the air, uttered a death cry, fell and lay still.

"An', as you see," continued the Panther, in his whisper, "the boys in
the house are not asleep, dreamin' beautiful dreams. Looks to me as if
they was watchin' mighty sharp for them fellers who have broke up their
rest."

Crack! went a second shot from the house, but there was no answering
cry, and they could not tell whether it hit anything. But they soon saw
more dark figures flitting through the bushes, and their own position
grew very precarious. If a band of the Indians stumbled upon them they
might be annihilated before they gave their besieged comrades any help.

"I make the motion, Mr. Panther," said Crockett, "that you form a speedy
plan of action for us, an' I trust that our young friend Ned here will
second it."

"I second the motion," said Ned.

"It is carried unanimously. Now, Mr. Panther, we await your will."

"It's my will that we git back to the rest of the men as soon as we can.
I reckon, Mr. Crockett, that them Tennesseans of yours wouldn't head in
the other direction if a fight grew hot."

"I reckon that wild horses couldn't drag 'em away," said Crockett dryly.

"Then we'll go back an' j'in 'em."

"To hold a caucus, so to speak."

"I don't know what a cow-cuss is."

"It's Congressional for a conference. Don't mind these parliamentary
expressions of mine, Mr. Panther. They give me pleasure an' they hurt
nobody."

They reached the Tennesseans without interruption, and the Panther
quickly laid his plan before them. They would advance within a quarter
of a mile of the cabin, tie their horses in the thickest of the brush,
leave four men to guard them, then the rest would go forward to help the
besieged.

Crockett's eyes twinkled when the Panther announced the campaign in a
few words.

"Very good; very good," he said. "A steering committee could not have
done better. That also is parliamentary, but I think you understand it."

They heard detached shots again and then a long yell.

"They're Comanches," said the Panther. "I know their cry, an' I guess
there's a lot of them."

Ned hoped that the shout did not mean the achieving of some triumph.
They reached presently a dense growth of brush, and there the horses
were tied. Four reluctant Tennesseans remained with them and the rest
crept forward. They did not hear any shot after they left the horses
until they were within three hundred yards of the house. Then an
apparition caused all to stop simultaneously.

A streak of flame shot above the trees, curved and fell. It was followed
by another and another. Ned was puzzled, but the Panther laughed low.

"This can't be fireworks on election night," said Davy Crockett. "It
seems hardly the place for such a display."

"They're fireworks, all right," said the Panther, "but it's not election
night. You're correct about that part of it. Look, there goes the fourth
an' the fifth."

Two more streaks of flame curved and fell, and Ned and Crockett were
still puzzled.

"Them's burnin' arrers," said the Panther. "It's an old trick of the
Injuns. If they had time enough they'd be sure to set the cabin on fire,
and then from ambush they'd shoot the people as they ran out. But what
we're here for is to stop that little game of theirs. The flight of the
arrers enables us to locate the spot from which they come an' there
we'll find the Comanches."

They crept toward the point from which the lighted arrows were flying,
and peering; from the thicket saw a score or more of Comanches gathered
in the bushes and under the trees. One of the Tennesseans, seeking a
better position, caused a loud rustling, and the alert Comanches,
instantly taking alarm, turned their attention to the point from which
the sound had come.

"Fire, boys! Fire at once!" cried the Panther.

A deadly volley was poured into the Comanche band. The Indians replied,
but were soon compelled to give way. The Panther, raising his voice,
shouted in tremendous tones:

"Rescue! Rescue! We're here, boys!"

The defenders of the cabin, hearing the volleys and the shouts of their
friends, opened the door and rushed out of the cabin, rifle in hand.
Caught between two forces, the Comanches gave up and rushed to the
plain, where they had left their ponies. Jumping upon the backs of
these, they fled like the wind.

The two victorious parties met and shook hands.

"We're mighty glad to see you, Panther," said Fields, grinning. "You
don't look like an angel, but you act like one, an' I see you've brought
a lot of new angels with you."

"Yes," replied the Panther, with some pride in his voice, "an' the first
of the angels is Davy Crockett. Mr. Crockett, Mr. Fields."

The men crowded around to shake hands with the renowned Davy. Meanwhile
a small party brought the four Tennesseans and the horses. Fortunately
the Comanches had fled in the other direction. But it was not all joy in
the Texan camp. Two silent figures covered with serapes were stretched
on the floor in the cabin, and several others had wounds, although they
had borne their part in the fighting.

"Tell us how it happened," said the Panther, after they had set
sentinels in the forest.

"They attacked us about an hour after dark," replied Fields. "We knew
that no Mexicans were near, but we never thought of Indians raiding
this far to the eastward. Some of the men were outside looking after
jerked meat when they suddenly opened fire from the brush. Two of the
boys, Campbell and Hudson, were hurt so badly that they died after they
were helped into the house by the others. The Comanches tried to rush in
with our own men, but we drove them off and we could have held the cabin
against 'em forever, if they hadn't begun to shoot the burning arrows.
Then you came."

Campbell and Hudson were buried. Ned had been welcomed warmly by Allen,
and the two boys compared notes. Will's face glowed when he heard of
Ned's adventures within the Mexican lines.

"I could never have done it," he said. "I couldn't have kept steady
enough when one crisis after another came along. I suppose this means,
of course, that we must try to meet Santa Anna in some way. What do you
think we can do, Ned?"

"I don't know, but just at present I'm going to sleep. The Panther, Davy
Crockett and Obed will debate the plans."

Ned, who was becoming inured to war and danger, was soon asleep, but
Will could not close his eyes. He had borne a gallant part in the
defense, and the sounds of rifle shots and Indian yells still resounded
in his excited ear. He remained awake long after he heard the heavy
breathing of the men about him, but exhausted nerves gave way at last
and he, too, slept.

The next morning their news was debated gravely by all. There was not
one among them who did not understand its significance, but it was hard
to agree upon a policy. Davy Crockett, who had just come, and who was
practically a stranger to Texas, gave his opinions with hesitation.

"It's better for you, Mr. Panther, an' you, Mr. White, to make the
motions," he said, "an' I an' my Tennesseans will endorse them. But it
seems, boys, that if we came for a fight it is offered to us the moment
we get here."

"Yes," said the twelve Tennesseans all together.

"I shall be compelled to leave you," said Roylston. "Pray, don't think
it's because I'm afraid to fight the Mexicans. But, as I told you
before, I can do far greater good for the Texan cause elsewhere. As I am
now as well as ever, and I am able to take care of myself, I think I
shall leave at once."

"I've known you only a few hours, Mr. Roylston," said Crockett, "but
I've knocked around a hard world long enough to know a man when I see
him. If you say you ought, you ought to go."

"That's so," said the Panther. "We've seen Mr. Roylston tried more than
once, and nobody doubts his courage."

A good horse, saddled and bridled, and arms and ammunition, were given
to Roylston. Then he bade them farewell. When he was about twenty yards
away he beckoned to Ned. When the boy stood at his saddle bow he said
very earnestly:

"If you fall again into the hands of Santa Anna, and are in danger of
your life, use my name with him. It is perhaps a more potent weapon than
you think. Do not forget."

"I will not," said Ned, "and I thank you very much, Mr. Roylston. But I
hope that no such occasion will arise."

"So do I," said Roylston with emphasis. Then he rode away, a square,
strong figure, and never looked back.

"What was he saying, Ned?" asked Will, when the boy returned.

"Merely promising help if we should need it, hereafter."

"He looks like a man who would give it."

After some further talk it was decided that Ned, Will, Obed and the
Panther should ride south to watch the advance of Santa Anna, while
Crockett, Fields and the remainder should go to San Antonio and raise
such troops as they could.

"An' if you don't mind my sayin' it to you, Mr. Crockett," said the
Panther, "keep tellin' 'em over an' over again that they have need to
beware. Tell 'em that Santa Anna, with all the power of Mexico at his
back, is comin'."

"Fear not, my good friend," said Davy Crockett. "I shall tell them every
hour of the day. I shall never cease to bring the information before the
full quorum of the House. Again I am parliamentary, but I think you
understand, Mr. Panther."

"We all understan'," said the Panther, and then Crockett rode away at
the head of the little troop which tacitly made him commander. Ned's
eyes followed his figure as long as he was in sight. Little did he dream
of what was to pass when they should meet again, scenes that one could
never forget, though he lived a thousand years.

"A staunch man and true," said Obed. "He will be a great help to Texas."

Then they turned back to the cabin, the four of them, because they did
not intend to go forth until night. They missed their comrades, but the
cabin was a pleasant place, well stored now with meat of buffalo, deer
and wild turkey. Floor and walls alike were covered with dressed skins.

"Why not fasten it up just as tightly as we can before we go away,"
said Allen. "The Comanches are not likely to come back, the war is
swinging another way, and maybe we'll find it here handy for us again
some day."

"You're talkin' sense, Will Allen," said the Panther. "It's been a
shelter to us once, and it might be a shelter to us twice. The smell of
the meat will, of course, draw wolves an' panthers, but we can fix it so
they can't get in."

Taking sufficient provisions for themselves, they put the rest high up
on the rafters. Then they secured the windows, and heaped logs before
the door in such a manner that the smartest wolves and panthers in the
world could not force an entrance. As they sat on their horses in the
twilight preparatory to riding away, they regarded their work with great
content.

"There it is, waiting for us when we come again," said Obed White. "It's
a pleasant thing to have a castle for refuge when your enemies are
making it too hot for you out in the open."

"So it is," said the Panther, "and a man finds that out more than once
in his life."

Then they turned their horses and rode southward in the dusk. But before
long they made an angle and turned almost due west. It was their
intention to intersect the settlements that lay between the Rio Grande
and San Antonio and give warning of the approach of Santa Anna.

They went on steadily over a rolling country, mostly bare, but with
occasional clumps of trees.




CHAPTER VII

THE HERALD OF ATTACK


About midnight they rode into the thickest part of the woods that they
could find, and slept there until day. Then they continued their course
toward the west, and before night they saw afar small bands of horsemen.

"What do you say they are?" asked the Panther of Ned when they beheld
the first group. "Seems to me they are Mexican."

Ned looked long before returning an answer. Then he replied with
confidence:

"Yes, they are Mexicans. The two men in the rear have lances, and no
Texan ever carried such a weapon."

"Then," said Obed White, "it behooves us to have a care. We're scouts
now and we're not looking for a battle. He who dodges the fight and runs
away may live to scout another day."

The Mexican horsemen were on their right, and the four continued their
steady course to the west. They were reassured by the fact that the
Mexicans were likely to take them in the distance for other Mexicans. It
became evident now that Santa Anna was taking every precaution. He was
sending forward scouts and skirmishers in force, and the task of the
four was likely to become one of great danger.

Toward night an uncommonly raw and cold wind began to blow. That winter
was one of great severity in Northern Mexico and Southern Texas, noted
also for its frequent Northers. Although the time for the Texan spring
was near at hand, there was little sign of it. Not knowing what else to
do they sought the shelter of timber again and remained there a while.
By and by they saw for the second time a red glow in the south, and they
knew that it came from the camp fires of Santa Anna. But it was now many
miles north of the Rio Grande. Santa Anna was advancing.

"He's pressin' forward fast," said the Panther, "an' his skirmishers are
scourin' the plain ahead of him. We've got to keep a sharp lookout,
because we may run into 'em at any time. I think we'd better agree that
if by any luck we get separated an' can't reunite, every fellow should
ride hard for San Antonio with the news."

The plan seemed good to all, and, after a long wait, they rode to
another clump of trees four or five hundred yards further south. Here
they saw the red glow more plainly. It could not be more than two miles
away, and they believed that to approach any nearer was to imperil their
task. Before the first light appeared the next day they would turn back
on San Antonio as the heralds of Santa Anna's advance.

The four sat on their horses among the trees, darker shadows in the
shadow. Beyond the little grove they saw the plain rolling away on every
side bare to the horizon, except in the south, where the red glow always
threatened. Ned rode to the western edge of the grove in order to get a
better view. He searched the plain carefully with his keen vision, but
he could find no sign of life there in the west.

He turned Old Jack in order to rejoin his comrades, when he suddenly
heard a low sound from the east. He listened a moment, and then, hearing
it distinctly, he knew it. It was the thud of hoofs, and the horsemen
were coming straight toward the grove, which was two or three hundred
yards in width.

Owing to the darkness and the foliage Ned could not see his comrades,
but he started toward them at once. Then came a sudden cry, the rapid
beat of hoofs, the crack of shots, and a Mexican body of cavalry dashed
into the wood directly between the boy and his comrades. He heard once
the tremendous shout of the Panther and the wild Mexican yells. Two
horsemen fired at him and a third rode at him with extended lance.

It was Old Jack that saved Ned's life. The boy was so startled that his
brain was in a paralysis for a moment. But the horse shied suddenly away
from the head of the lance, which was flashing in the moonlight. Ned
retained both his seat and his rifle. He fired at the nearest of the
Mexicans, who fell from his saddle, and then, seeing that but one
alternative was left him he gave Old Jack the rein and galloped from the
grove into the west.

Amid all the rush and terrific excitement of the moment, Ned thought of
his comrades. It was not possible for him to join them now, but they
were three together and they might escape. The Panther was a wonderful
borderer, and Obed White was not far behind him. He turned his attention
to his own escape. Two more shots were fired at him, but in both cases
the bullets went wide. Then he heard only the thud of hoofs, but the
pursuing horsemen were very near.

Something whizzed through the air and instinctively he bent forward
almost flat on the neck of Old Jack. A coiling shape struck him on the
head, slipped along his back, then along the quarters of his horse and
fell to the ground. He felt as if a deadly snake had struck at him, and
then had drawn its cold body across him. But he knew that it was a
lasso. The Mexicans would wish to take him alive, as they might secure
valuable information from him. Now he heard them shouting to one
another, every one boasting that his would be the successful throw. As
Ned's rifle was empty, and he could not reload it at such speed, they
seemed to fear nothing for themselves.

He looked back. They numbered seven or eight, and they were certainly
very near. They had spread out a little and whenever Old Jack veered a
yard or two from the pursuers some one gained. He saw a coil of rope fly
through the air and he bent forward again. It struck Old Jack on the
saddle and fell to the ground. Ned wondered why they did not fire now,
but he remembered that their rifles or muskets, too, might be empty, and
suddenly he felt a strange exultation. He was still lying forward on his
horse's neck, and now he began to talk to him.

"On! On! Old Jack," he said, "show 'em the cleanest heels that were ever
seen in Texas! On! On! my beauty of a horse, my jewel of a horse! Would
you let miserable Mexican ponies overtake you? You who were never
beaten! Ah, now we gain! But faster! faster!"

It seemed that Old Jack understood. He stretched out his long neck and
became a streak in the darkness. A third Mexican threw his lasso, but
the noose only touched his flying tail. A fourth threw, and the noose
did not reach him at all.

They were far out on the plain now, where the moonlight revealed
everything, and the horse's sure instinct would guide. Ned felt Old Jack
beneath him, running strong and true without a jar like the most perfect
piece of machinery. He stole a glance over his shoulder. All the
Mexicans were there, too far away now for a throw of the lasso, but
several of them were trying to reload their weapons. Ned knew that if
they succeeded he would be in great danger. No matter how badly they
shot a chance bullet might hit him or his horse. And he could afford for
neither himself nor Old Jack to be wounded.

Once more the boy leaned far over on his horse's neck and cried in his
ear:

"On, Old Jack, on! Look, we gain now, but we must gain more. Show to
them what a horse you are!"

And again the great horse responded. Fast as he was going it seemed to
Ned that he now lengthened his stride. His long head was thrust out
almost straight, and his great body fairly skimmed the earth. But the
Mexicans hung on with grim tenacity. Their ponies were tough and
enduring, and, spread out like the arc of a bow, they continually
profited by some divergence that Old Jack made from the straight line.
Aware of this danger Ned himself, nevertheless, was unable to tell
whether the horse was going in a direct course, and he let him have his
head.

"Crack!" went a musket, and a bullet sang past Ned's face. It grazed Old
Jack's ear, drawing blood. The horse uttered an angry snort and fairly
leaped forward. Ned looked back again. Another man had succeeded in
loading his musket and was about to fire. Then the boy remembered the
pistol at his belt. Snatching it out he fired at the fellow with the
loaded musket.

The Mexican reeled forward on his horse's neck and his weapon dropped to
the ground. Whether the man himself fell also Ned never knew, because he
quickly thrust the pistol back in his belt and once more was looking
straight ahead. Now confidence swelled again in his heart. He had
escaped all their bullets so far, and he was still gaining. He would
escape all the others and he would continue to gain.

He saw just ahead of him one of the clumps of trees that dotted the
plain, but, although it might give momentary protection from the bullets
he was afraid to gallop into it, lest he be swept from his horse's back
by the boughs or bushes. But his direct course would run close to the
left side of it, and once more he sought to urge Old Jack to greater
speed.

The horse was still running without a jar. Ned could not feel a single
rough movement in the perfect machinery beneath him. Unless wounded Old
Jack would not fail him. He stole another of those fleeting glances
backward.

Several of the Mexicans, their ponies spent, were dropping out of the
race, but enough were left to make the odds far too great. Ned now
skimmed along the edge of the grove, and when he passed it he turned his
horse a little, so the trees were between him and his nearest pursuers.
Then he urged Old Jack to his last ounce of speed. The plain raced
behind him, and fortunate clouds, too, now came, veiling the moon and
turning the dusk into deeper darkness. Ned heard one disappointed cry
behind him, and then no sound but the flying beat of his own horse's
hoofs.

When he pulled rein and brought Old Jack to a walk he could see or hear
nothing of the Mexicans. The great horse was a lather of foam, his sides
heaving and panting, and Ned sprang to the ground. He reloaded his rifle
and pistol and then walked toward the west, leading Old Jack by the
bridle. He reckoned that the Mexicans would go toward the north,
thinking that he would naturally ride for San Antonio, and hence he
chose the opposite direction.

He walked a long time and presently he felt the horse rubbing his nose
gently against his arm. Ned stroked the soft muzzle.

"You've saved my life. Old Jack," he said, "and not for the first time.
You responded to every call."

The horse whinnied ever so softly, and Ned felt that he was not alone.
Now he threw the bridle reins back over the horse's head, and then the
two walked on, side by side, man and beast.

They stopped at times, and it may be that the horse as well as the boy
then looked and listened for a foe. But the Mexicans had melted away
completely in the night. It was likely now that they were going in the
opposite direction, and assured that he was safe from them for the time
Ned collapsed, both physically and mentally. Such tremendous exertions
and such terrible excitement were bound to bring reaction. He began to
tremble violently, and he became so weak that he could scarcely stand.
The horse seemed to be affected in much the same way and walked slowly
and painfully.

Ned saw another little grove, and he and the horse walked straight
toward it. It was fairly dense, and when he was in the center of it he
wrapped his rifle and himself in his serape and lay down. The horse sank
on his side near him. He did not care for anything now except to secure
rest. Mexicans or Comanches or Lipans might be on the plain only a few
hundred yards away. It did not matter to him. He responded to no emotion
save the desire for rest, and in five minutes he was in a deep sleep.

Ned slept until long after daylight. He was so much exhausted that he
scarcely moved during all that time. Nor did the horse. Old Jack had run
his good race and won the victory, and he, too, cared for nothing but to
rest.

Before morning some Lipan buffalo hunters passed, but they took no
notice of the grove and soon disappeared in the west. After the dawn a
detachment of Mexican lancers riding to the east to join the force of
Santa Anna also passed the clump of trees, but the horse and man lay in
the densest part of it, and no pair of Mexican eyes was keen enough to
see them there. They were answering the call of Santa Anna, and they
rode on at a trot, the grove soon sinking out of sight behind them.

Ned was awakened at last by the sun shining in his face. He stirred,
recalled in a vague sort of way where he was and why he was there, and
then rose slowly to his feet. His joints were stiff like those of an old
man, and he rubbed them to acquire ease. A great bay horse, saddle on
his back, was searching here and there for the young stems of grass. Ned
rubbed his eyes. It seemed to him that he knew that horse. And a fine
big horse he was, too, worth knowing and owning. Yes, it was Old Jack,
the horse that had carried him to safety.

His little store of provisions was still tied to the saddle and he ate
hungrily. At the end of the grove was a small pool formed by the
winter's rains, and though the water was far from clear he drank his
fill. He flexed and tensed his muscles again until all the stiffness and
soreness were gone. Then he made ready for his departure.

He could direct his course by the sun, and he intended to go straight to
San Antonio. He only hoped that he might get there before the arrival of
Santa Anna and his army. He could not spare the time to seek his
comrades, and he felt much apprehension for them, but he yet had the
utmost confidence in the skill of the Panther and Obed White.

It was about two hours before noon when Ned set out across the plain.
Usually in this region antelope were to be seen on the horizon, but
they were all gone now. The boy considered it a sure sign that Mexican
detachments had passed that way. It was altogether likely, too, so he
calculated, that the Mexican army was now nearer than he to San Antonio.
His flight had taken him to the west while Santa Anna was moving
straight toward the Texan outworks. But he believed that by steady
riding he could reach San Antonio within twenty-four hours.

The afternoon passed without event. Ned saw neither human beings nor
game on the vast prairie. He had hoped that by some chance he might meet
with his comrades, but there was no sign of them, and he fell back on
his belief that their skill and great courage had saved them. Seeking to
dismiss them from his thoughts for the time in order that he might
concentrate all his energies on San Antonio, he rode on. The horse had
recovered completely from his great efforts of the preceding night, and
once more that magnificent piece of machinery worked without a jar. Old
Jack moved over the prairie with long, easy strides. It seemed to Ned
that he could never grow weary. He patted the sinewy and powerful neck.

"Gallant comrade," he said, "you have done your duty and more. You, at
least, will never fail."

Twilight came down, but Ned kept on. By and by he saw in the east, and
for the third time, that fatal red glow extending far along the dusky
horizon. All that he had feared of Santa Anna was true. The dictator was
marching fast, whipping his army forward with the fierce energy that was
a part of his nature. It was likely, too, that squadrons of his cavalry
were much further on. A daring leader like Urrea would certainly be
miles ahead of the main army, and it was more than probable that bands
of Mexican horsemen were now directly between him and San Antonio.

Ned knew that he would need all his strength and courage to finish his
task. So he gave Old Jack a little rest, although he did not seem to
need it, and drew once more upon his rations.

When he remounted he was conscious that the air had grown much colder. A
chill wind began to cut him across the cheek. Snow, rain and wind have
played a great part in the fate of armies, and they had much to do with
the struggle between Texas and Mexico in that fateful February. Ned's
experience told him that another Norther was about to begin, and he was
glad of it. One horseman could make much greater progress through it
than an army.

The wind rose fast and then came hail and snow on its edge. The red glow
in the east disappeared. But Ned knew that it was still there. The
Norther had merely drawn an icy veil between. He shivered, and the horse
under him shivered, too. Once more he wrapped around his body the
grateful folds of the serape and he drew on a pair of buckskin gloves, a
part of his winter equipment.

Then he rode on straight toward San Antonio as nearly as he could
calculate. The Norther increased in ferocity. It brought rain, hail and
snow, and the night darkened greatly. Ned began to fear that he would
get lost. It was almost impossible to keep the true direction in such a
driving storm. He had no moon and stars to guide him, and he was
compelled to rely wholly upon instinct. Sometimes he was in woods,
sometimes upon the plain, and once or twice he crossed creeks, the
waters of which were swollen and muddy.

The Norther was not such a blessing after all. He might be going
directly away from San Antonio, while Santa Anna, with innumerable
guides, would easily reach there the next day. He longed for those
faithful comrades of his. The four of them together could surely find a
way out of this.

He prayed now that the Norther would cease, but his prayer was of no
avail. It whistled and moaned about him, and snow and hail were
continually driven in his face. Fortunately the brim of the sombrero
protected his eyes. He floundered on until midnight. The Norther was
blowing as fiercely as ever, and he and Old Jack were brought up by a
thicket too dense for them to penetrate.

Ned understood now that he was lost. Instinct had failed absolutely.
Brave and resourceful as he was he uttered a groan of despair. It was
torture to be so near the end of his task and then to fail. But the
despair lasted only a moment. The courage of a nature containing genuine
greatness brought back hope.

He dismounted and led his horse around the thicket. Then they came to a
part of the woods which

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