“Horsemen are coming,” said Bowie, “and unless I am far wrong they are Texans.  Ring again, Ned.”

The bell boomed forth once more, and for the last time.  Clear and sharp, came the peal of the trumpet in answer.  One by one the men awoke.  The light was now appearing in the East, the gray trembling into silver.  From the valley came the rapid beat of hoofs, a rifle shot and then three or four more.  Bowie ran out at the door, and Ned followed him.  Across the meadows the Comanches scurried on their ponies, and a group of white men sent a volley after them.  Then the white men galloped toward the convent.  Bowie walked forward to meet them.

“You were never more welcome, Fannin,” he said to the leader of the group.

The man sprang from his horse, and grasped Bowie’s hand.

“We rode as fast as we could, but I didn’t know it was you, Jim,” he said.  “Some of our scouts heard a bell somewhere playing The Star Spangled Banner in the night.  We thought they were dreaming, but they swore to it.  So we concluded it must be a call for help and I came with the troop that you see here.  We lost the direction once or twice, but the bell called us back.”

“For that,” said Bowie, “you have to thank this boy here, a boy in years only, a man in action, and two men in mind and courage.  This is Ned Fulton, Colonel Fannin.”

Ned blushed and expostulated, but Bowie took nothing back.  Fannin looked about him curiously.

“You seem to have had something of a fight here,” he said.  “Down in the grass and weeds we saw several Comanches who will trouble no more.”

“We had all we wanted,” said Bowie, “and we shall be glad to ride at once with you to camp.  I bring some good men for the cause, and there are more behind.”

They buried the fallen man in the old flower garden, and then rode swiftly for the Texan camp on the Salado.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN SAN ANTONIO

It was a crisp October morning, and as he galloped through the fresh air, all of Ned’s spirits came back to him.  He would soon be with the full array of the Texans, marching forward boldly to meet Cos himself and all his forces.  The great strain of the fight the night before passed away as he inhaled the sparkling air.  The red came back to his cheeks, and he felt that he was ready to go wherever the boldest of the Texans led.  The Ring Tailed Panther shared his emotions.

“Fine, isn’t it?” said he.  “Great valley, too, but it oughtn’t to belong to the Mexicans.  It’s been going down under them for a long time.  They haven’t been able to protect it from Comanches, Apaches and Lipans.  The old convent that we held last night had been abandoned for fear of the Indians, an’ lots of other work that the Spaniards an’ Mexicans did has gone the same way.”

The beauty of the country increased, as they rode.  Fine springs of cold water gushed from the hills and flowed down into the clear green stream of the San Antonio.  The groves of oaks and pecans were superb, but they passed more desolate and abandoned buildings and crossed more irrigation ditches choked up with refuse.