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

“Seven thousand men or more,” said Jose 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 Jose.  “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.”