As Ned turned the curve the wind grew much stronger.  The bank of fog was split asunder and then floated swiftly away in patches and streamers.  On his left beyond the river Ned saw the roofs of the town, now glistening in the clear morning air, and on his right, only four or five hundred yards away, he saw a numerous troop of Mexican cavalry.  In the figure at the head of the horsemen he was sure that he recognized Urrea.

Ned’s first emotion was a terrible sinking of the heart.  After all that he had done, after all his great journeys, hardships and dangers, he was to fail with the towers and roofs of San Antonio in sight.  It was the triumphant cry of the Mexicans that startled him into life again.  They had seen the lone horseman by the river and they galloped at once toward him.  Ned had made no mistake.  It was Urrea, pressing forward ahead of the army, who led the troop, and it may be that he recognized the boy also.

With the cry of the Mexicans ringing in his ears, the boy shouted to Old Jack.  The good horse, as always, made instant response, and began to race along the side of the river.  But even his mighty frame had been weakened by so much strain.  Ned noticed at once that the machinery jarred.  The great horse was laboring hard and the Mexican cavalry, comparatively fresh, was coming on fast.  It was evident that he would soon be overtaken, and so sure were the Mexicans of it that they did not fire.

There were deep reserves of courage and fortitude in this boy, deeper than even he himself suspected.  When he saw that he could not escape by speed, the way out flashed upon him.  To think was to do.  He turned his horse without hesitation and urged him forward with a mighty cry.

Never had Old Jack made a more magnificent response.  Ned felt the mighty mass of bone and muscle gather in a bunch beneath him.  Then, ready to expand again with violent energy, it was released as if by the touch of a spring.  The horse sprang from the high bank far out into the deep river.

Ned felt his serape fly from him and his rifle dropped from his hand.  Then the yellow waters closed over both him and Old Jack.  They came up again, Ned still on the horse’s back, but with an icy chill through all his veins.  He could not see for a moment or two, as the water was in his eyes, but he heard dimly the shouts of the Mexicans and several shots.  Two or three bullets splashed the water around him and another struck his sombrero, which was floating away on the surface of the stream.

The horse, turning somewhat, swam powerfully in a diagonal course across the stream.  Ned, dazed for the moment by the shock of the plunge from a height into the water, clung tightly to his back.  He sat erect at first, and then remembering that he must evade the bullets leaned forward with the horse’s neck between him and the Mexicans.

More shots were fired, but again he was untouched, and then the horse was feeling with his forefeet in the muddy bank for a hold.  The next instant, with a powerful effort, he pulled himself upon the shore.  The violent shock nearly threw Ned from his back, but the boy seized his mane and hung on.