“Guess we didn’t come out of season,” said Smith with a smile.

“You certainly didn’t,” broke in Obed.  “There’s a time for all things, and this was your time!”

“I believe they’re real glad to see us.  Don’t you think so, Jim?” said Smith with a smile.

The man whom he called Jim had been sitting on his horse, silent, and he remained silent yet, but he nodded in reply.  Ned’s gaze traveled to him and he was certainly a striking figure.  He was over six feet in height, with large blue eyes and fair hair.  His expression was singularly gentle and mild, but his appearance nevertheless, both face and figure, indicated unusual strength.  Obed had not noticed him before, but now he exclaimed joyfully: 

“Why, it’s Colonel Jim Bowie!  Jim, it’s me, Obed White!  Shake hands!”

“So it is you, Obed,” said the redoubtable Bowie, “and here we shake.”

The hands of the two met in a powerful clasp.  Then they all dismounted and another man, short and thick, shook Obed by the hand and called him by his first name.  He was Henry Karnes, the Tennesseean, great scout and famous borderer of the Texas plains.

Ned looked with admiration at these men, whose names were great to him.  On the wild border where life depended almost continually upon skill and quickness with weapons, “Deaf” Smith, Jim Bowie and Henry Karnes were already heroes to youth.  Ned thrilled.  He was here with his own people, and with the greatest of them.  He had finished his long journey and he was with the Texans.  The words shaped themselves again and again in his brain, the Texans! the Texans! the Texans!

“You two seem to have given the Lipans a lot of trouble,” said Bowie, looking at the two fallen warriors.

“We were putting all the obstacles we could in the way of what they wanted,” said Obed modestly, “but we don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come.  Those fellows had been following us for days, and they must have had some idea that you were near, or they would have waited still longer.”

“They must not have known that we were as near as we were,” said Bowie, “or they would not have invited our attack.  We heard the firing and galloped to it at once.  But you two need something better than talk.”

He broke off suddenly, because Ned had sat down on one of the logs, looking white and ill.  The collapse had come after so many terrible trials and privations, and not even his will could hold him.

“Here, you take a drink of this water, it’s good and cold,” said “Deaf” Smith kindly as he held out a canteen.  “I reckon that no boy has ever passed through more than you have, and if there’s any hero you are one.”

“Good words,” said Bowie.

Ned smiled.  These words were healing balm to his pride.  To be praised thus by these famous Texans was ample reward.  Besides, he had great and vital news to all, and he knew that Obed would wait for him to tell it.