But he communicated his fears to no one.  Two or three hours before day, he became so sore and weary from work with the spade that he crawled into one of the half-wrecked wagons, and tried to go to sleep.  But his nerves were drawn to too high a pitch.  After a quarter of an hour’s vain effort he got out of the wagon and stood by the wheel.  The sky was still black, and the heavy clouds of fog and vapor rolled steadily past him.  It seemed to him that everything was closing on them, even the skies, and the air was so heavy that he found it hard to breathe.

He would have returned to work, but he knew that he would overtask his worn frame, and he wanted to be in condition for the battle that he believed was coming with the morrow.  They had not tried to cut out at night, then they must do it by day, or die where they stood of thirst.

He sat down at last on the ground, and leaned against a wagon wheel, drawing a blanket over his shoulders for warmth.  He found that he could rest better here than inside the wagon, and, in an hour or two, he dozed a little, but when he awoke the night was still very dark.

The men finished their toil at the breastwork just before day and then, laying aside their shovels and picks and taking up their rifles, they watched for the first shoot of dawn in the east.  It came presently, disclosing the long lines of Mexican sentinels and behind them the army.  The enemy was on watch and soon a terrible rumor, that was true, spread among the Texans.  They were caught like the men of Refugio.  Only three or four rounds of ammunition were left.  It was bad enough to be without food and water, but without powder and bullets either they were no army.  Now Ned knew that his presages were true.  They were doomed.

The sun rose higher, pouring a golden light upon the plain.  The distance to the Mexican lines was in appearance reduced half by the vivid light.  Then Ned of the keen eye saw a dark line far off to their right on the prairie.  He watched them a little, and saw that they were Mexican cavalry, coming to swell still further Urrea’s swollen force.  He also saw two cannon drawn by mules.

Ned pointed out the column to Wallace, a Major among the Texans, and then Wallace used a pair of glasses.

“You are right,” he said.  “They are Mexicans and they have two pieces of artillery.  Oh, if we could only use our own guns!”

But the Texan cannon stood as worthless as if they had been spiked, and the Texans were compelled to remain silent and helpless, while the Mexicans put their new guns in position, and took aim with deliberation, as if all the time in the world was theirs.  Ned tried to console himself with the reflection that Mexican gunners were not often accurate, but the first thud and puff of smoke showed that these were better than usual.

A shower of grape shot coming from a superior height swept their camp, killing two or three of the remaining oxen, smashing the wagons to pieces, and wounding more men.  Another shower from the second gun struck among them with like result, and the case of the Texans grew more desperate.