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, Jose?”

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