Now the Ring Tailed Panther roared, but it was not between his shut teeth.

“By the great horn spoon, I’m glad!” he said, “All the waitin’ an’ backin’ an’ fillin’ are over.  We do our talkin’ now with cannon an’ rifles.”

But not another shot was fired that night.  It was merely some scout or skirmisher who had sent the fugitive bullet across the river, but it was enough.  The Mexican intentions were now evident.

Ned went off duty toward morning and slept a few hours in one of the cabins.  When he awoke he ate a hearty breakfast and went back to the river.  About half of the eighteen had taken naps, but they were all gathered once more along the Guadalupe.  Ned observed the Mexican camp and saw some movement there.  Presently all the soldiers rode out, with Castenada at their head.

“They’re comin’ to our ford!  By the great horn spoon, they are comin’!” roared the Ring Tailed Panther.

It seemed that he was right as the Mexicans were approaching at a gallop, making a gallant show, their lances glittering in the sun.

“Lay down, all!” said the Ring Tailed Panther.  “The moment they strike the water turn loose with your rifles an’ roar an’ scratch an’ claw!”

But when they were within one hundred yards of the Guadalupe the Mexicans suddenly sheered off.  Evidently they did not like the looks of the Texan rifles which they could plainly see.  The defenders of the fords uttered a derisive shout, and some of the Mexicans fired.  But their bullets fell short, only a single one of them coming as far as the edge of the Guadalupe.  The Texans did not reply.  They would not waste ammunition in any such foolish fashion.

The Mexicans stopped, when four or five hundred yards away, and began to wave their lances and utter taunting shouts.  The Texans only laughed, all except the Ring Tailed Panther, who growled.

“You see, Ned,” said Obed, “that one charge does not make a passage.  It appears to me that our friend Castenada does not want his uniform or himself spoiled by our good Texas lead.  Now, I take it, we can rest easy awhile longer.”

He lay down in the grass under the trees and Ned did likewise, but the Ring Tailed Panther would not be consoled.  An opportunity had been lost, and he hurled strange and miscellaneous epithets at the distant Mexicans.  Standing upon a little hillock he called them more bad names than Ned had ever before heard.  He aspersed the character of their ancestors even to the eighth generation and of their possible descendants also to the eighth generation.  He issued every kind of challenge to any kind of combat, and at last, red and panting, descended the hillock.

“Do you feel better?” asked Obed.

“I’ve whispered a few of my thoughts.  Yes, I can re’lly say that the state of my health is improvin’.”

“Then sit down and rest.  It’s never too late to try, try again.  Remember that the day is long and the Mexicans may certainly have a chance.”