They slept on the open prairie, and were in the saddle again before dawn.  Bowie now curved a little to the North.  They were coming into country over which Mexicans rode, and he did not wish a clash.  But the Ring Tailed Panther was not sanguine about a free passage, nor did he seem to care.

“It’s likely that the Mexican bands are out ridin’,” he said.  “Cos ain’t no fool, an’ he’ll be on the lookout for us.  There’s more timber as you come toward San Antonio, an’ there’ll be a lot of chances for ambushes.”

“I believe you are hoping for one,” said Ned.

The Ring Tailed Panther did not answer, but he looked upon this young friend of his of whom he thought so much, and his dark face parted in one of the broadest smiles that Ned had ever seen.

“I ain’t runnin’ away from the chance of it,” he replied.

They saw a little later a belt of timber to their right.  Ned’s experience told him that it masked the bed of a creek, probably flowing to the San Antonio River, and he noticed, although they were at some distance, that the trees seemed to be of unusually fine growth.  This fact first attracted his attention, but he lost sight of it when he saw a glint of unusually bright light among the trunks.  He looked more closely.  Here again experience was of value.  It was the peculiar kind of light that he had seen before, when a ray from the sun struck squarely on the steel head of a lance.

“Look!” he said to Obed and Bowie.

They looked, and Bowie instantly halted his men.  The face of the Ring Tailed Panther suddenly lighted up.  He too had good eyes, and he said in tones of satisfaction: 

“Figures are movin’ among the trees, an’ they are those of mounted men with lances.  Texans don’t carry lances an’ I think we shall be attacked by a Mexican force within a few minutes, Colonel Bowie.”

“It is altogether probable,” replied Bowie.  “See, they are coming from the wood, and they number at least sixty.”

“Nearer seventy, I think,” said Obed.

“Whether sixty or seventy, they are not too many for us to handle,” said Bowie.

The Mexicans had seen the little group of Texans and they were coming fast.  The wind brought their shouts and they brandished their long lances.  Ned observed with admiration how cool Bowie and all the men remained.

“Ride up in a line,” said Bowie.  “Here, Ned, bring your horse by me and all of you face the Mexicans.  Loosen your pistols, and when I give the word to fire let ’em have it with your rifles.”

They were on the crest of one of the swells and the sixteen horses stood in a row so straight that a line stretched across their front would have touched the head of every one.  They were trained horses, too, and the riders dropped the reins on their necks, while they held their rifles ready.

It was hard for Ned to keep his nerves steady, but Obed was on one side of him and Bowie on the other, while the Ring Tailed Panther was just beyond Obed.  Pride as well as necessity kept him motionless and taut like the others.