Between the slit left by the brim of his sombrero and his serape he watched the great fires die slowly.  Most of the Mexicans were asleep now, and their figures were growing indistinct in the shadows.  But Ned, rising, slouched forward, imitating the gait of the laziest of the Mexicans.  Yet his eyes were always watching shrewdly through the slit.  Very little escaped his notice.  He went along the entire Mexican line and then back again.  He had a good mathematical mind, and he saw that the estimate of 7,000 for the Mexican army was not too few.  He also saw many cannon and the horses for a great cavalry force.  He knew, too, that Santa Anna had with him the best regiments in the Mexican service.

On his last trip along the line Ned began to look for the Panther and Obed, but he saw no figures resembling theirs, although he was quite sure that he would know the Panther in any disguise owing to his great size.  This circumstance would make it more dangerous for the Panther than for either Obed or himself, as Urrea, if he should see so large a man, would suspect that it was none other than the redoubtable frontiersman.

Ned was thinking of this danger to the Panther when he came face to face with Urrea himself.  The young Mexican captain was not lacking in vigilance and energy, and even at that late hour he was seeing that all was well in the camp of Santa Anna.  Ned was truly thankful now that Mexican custom and the coldness of the night permitted him to cover his face with his serape and the brim of his sombrero.

“Why are you walking here?” demanded Urrea.

“I’ve just taken a message to General Castrillon,” replied Ned.

He had learned already that Castrillon commanded the artillery, and as he was at least a mile away he thought this the safest reply.

“From whom?” asked Urrea shortly.

“Pardon, sir,” replied Ned, in his best Spanish, disguising his voice as much as possible, “but I am not allowed to tell.”

Ned’s tone was courteous and apologetic, and in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred Urrea would have contented himself with an impatient word or two.  But he was in a most vicious temper.  Perhaps he had been rebuked by Santa Anna for allowing the rescue of Roylston.

“Why don’t you speak up?” he exclaimed.  “Why do you mumble your words, and why do you stand in such a slouching manner.  Remember that a soldier should stand up straight.”

“Yes, my captain,” said Ned, but he did not change his attitude.  The tone and manner of Urrea angered him.  He forgot where he was and his danger.

Urrea’s swarthy face flushed.  He carried in his hand a small riding whip, which he switched occasionally across the tops of his tall, military boots.

“Lout!” he cried.  “You hear me!  Why do you not obey!”

Ned stood impassive.  Certainly Urrea had had a bad half hour somewhere.  His temper leaped beyond control.