He saw many deer, and started up several flights of wild turkeys, but he did not disturb them.  He was a soldier now, not a hunter, and he sought men, not animals.  Another night came and found him still alone on the prairie.  As before, he slept undisturbed under the boughs of a tree, and he awoke the next morning thoroughly sound in body and much refreshed in mind.  But the feeling of hardness, the desire for revenge, remained.  He was continually seeing the merciless face of Santa Anna and the sanguinary interior of the Alamo.  The imaginative quality of his mind and his sensitiveness to cruelty had heightened the effect produced upon him.

He continued to ride through desolate country for several days, living on the game that his rifle brought.  He slept one night in an abandoned cabin, with Old Jack resting in the grass that was now growing rankly at the door.  He came the next day to a great trail, so great in truth that he believed it to have been made by Mexicans.  He did not believe that there was anywhere a Texan force sufficient to tread out so broad a road.

He noticed, too, that the hoofs of the horses were turned in the general direction of Goliad or Victoria, nearer the sea, and he concluded that this was another strong Mexican army intended to complete the ruin of infant Texas.  He decided to follow, and near nightfall he saw the camp fires of a numerous force.  He rode as near as he dared and reckoned that there were twelve or fifteen hundred men in the camp.  He was sure that it was no part of the army with which Santa Anna had taken the Alamo.

Ned rode a wide circuit around the camp and continued his ride in the night.  He was forced to rest and sleep a while toward morning, but shortly after daylight he went forward again to warn he knew not whom.  Two or three hours later he saw two horsemen on the horizon, and he rode toward them.  He knew that if they should prove to be Mexicans Old Jack was swift enough to carry him out of reach.  But he soon saw that they were Texans, and he hailed them.

The two men stopped and watched him as he approached.  The fact that he rode a horse without saddle or bridle was sufficient to attract their attention, and they saw, too, that he was wild in appearance, with long, uncombed hair and torn clothing.  They were hunters who had come out from the little town of Refugio.

Ned hailed them again when he came closer.

“You are Texans and friends?” he said.

“Yes, we are Texans and friends,” replied the older of the two men.  “Who are you?”

“My name is Fulton, Edward Fulton, and I come from the Alamo.”

“The Alamo?  How could that be?  How could you get out?”

“I was sent out on an errand by Colonel Crockett, a fictitious errand for the purpose of saving me, I now believe.  But I fell at once into the hands of Santa Anna.  The next morning the Alamo was taken by storm, but every Texan in it died in its defence.  I saw it done.”