It was nearly noon when Ned awoke, and he might not have awakened then had not the sun from its new position sent a shaft of light directly into his eyes.  He saw that his precious rifle was still lying by his side, and then he sprang to his feet, startled to find by the sun that it was so late.  He heard a loud joyous neigh, and a great bay horse trotted toward him.

It was Old Jack, the faithful dumb brute, of which he had thought so rarely during all those tense days in the Alamo.  The Mexicans had not taken him.  He was here, and happy chance had brought him and his master together again.  It was so keen a joy to see a friend again, even an animal, that Ned put his arm around Old Jack’s neck, and for the first time tears came to his eyes.

“Good Old Jack!” he said, patting his horse’s nose.  “You must have been waiting here all the time for me.  And you must have fared well, too.  I never before saw you looking so fat and saucy.”

The finding of the horse simplified Ned’s problem somewhat.  He had neither saddle nor bridle, but Old Jack always obeyed him beautifully.  He believed that if it came to the pinch, and it became necessary for him to ride for his life, he could guide him in the Indian fashion with the pressure of the knees.

He made a sort of halter of withes which he fastened on Old Jack’s head, and then he sprang upon his bare back, feeling equal to almost anything.  He rode west by south now, his course taking him toward Goliad, and he went on at a good gait until twilight.  A little later he made out the shapes of wild turkeys, then very numerous in Texas among the boughs of the trees, and he brought a fine fat one down at the first shot.  After some difficulty he lighted a fire with the flint and steel, which the Mexicans fortunately had not taken from him, toasted great strips over the coals, and ate hungrily of juicy and tender wild turkey.

He was all the time aware that his fire might bring danger down upon him, but he was willing to chance it.  After he had eaten enough he took the remainder of his turkey and rode on.  It was a clear, starry night and, as he had been awake only since noon, he continued until about ten o’clock, when he again took the turf under a tree for a couch.  He slipped the rude halter from Old Jack, patted him on the head and said: 

“Old Jack, after the lofty way in which you have behaved I wouldn’t disgrace you by tying you up for the night.  Moreover, I know that you’re the best guard I could possibly have, and so, trusting you implicitly, I shall go to sleep.”

His confidence was justified, and the next morning they were away again over the prairie.  Ned was sure that he would meet roving Texans or Mexicans before noon, but he saw neither.  He surmised that the news of Santa Anna’s great force had sent all the Texans eastward, but the loneliness and desolation nevertheless weighed upon him.

He crossed several streams, all of them swollen and deep from spring rains, and every time he came to one he returned thanks again because he had found Old Jack.  The great horse always took the flood without hesitation, and would come promptly to the other bank.