“I’m like you, Obed; I hate riddles, an’ this is the worst one that I was ever mixed up with.  Somethin’ fell in the shrubbery; then came the whistle, the Mexicans shot, away we went, lickety split, an’ now we’re here.  That’s all I know, an’ it ain’t much.”

“I wonder if we’ll ever find out,” said Ned.

“Doubtful,” replied the Ring Tailed Panther.  “I’m afeard, boys, they won’t waste much time on Urrea, he bein’ a spy an’ of their own blood, too.  It’s war an’ we’ve got to make the best of it.”

But Ned could not make very well of it.  A fugitive hidden there in the hay and the dark, the fate of Urrea seemed very terrible to him.  The three sank into silence.  Occasionally they heard cries from distant parts of the town, but the hunt did not seem to come back toward them.  Ned was thankful that the Ring Tailed Panther had been so ready of wit.  The Mexicans would not dream that the Texans were hiding in the Vice-Governor’s own barn, just behind the Vice-Governor’s own house.  He made himself cozy in the hay and waited.

After about an hour, the town turned quiet, and Ned inferred that the hunt was over.  The Mexicans, no doubt, would assume that the three had escaped from San Antonio, and they would not dare to hunt far out on the prairies.  But what of Urrea!  Poor Urrea!  Ned could not keep from thinking of him, but think as hard as he could he saw no way to find out about his fate.  Perhaps the Ring Tailed Panther was right.  They would never know.

The three did not stir for a long time.  Ned felt very comfortable in the hay.  The night was cold without, but here he was snug and warm.  He waited for those older and more experienced than himself to decide upon their course and he knew that Obed or the Ring Tailed Panther would speak in time.  He was almost in a doze when Obed said that it must be about one o’clock in the morning.

“You ain’t far wrong,” said the Ring Tailed Panther, “but I’d wait at least another hour.  That ball will be over then, if we didn’t break it up when we were in the garden.”

They waited the full hour, and then they stole from the hay.  Veramendi’s house was silent and dark, and they passed safely into the street.  Ned had a faint hope that Urrea would yet appear from some dark hiding place, but there was no sign of the young Mexican.

They chose the boldest possible course, thinking that it would be safest, claiming to one soldier whom they passed that they were sentinels going to their duty at the farthest outposts.  Luck, as it usually does, came to the aid of courage and skill, and they reached the outskirts of San Antonio, without any attempt at interference.

Once more, after long and painful creeping, they stole between the sentinels, took mental note of the earthworks again, and also a last look at the dark bulk that was the town.

“Poor Urrea!” said Ned.

“Poor Urrea,” said Obed.  “I wonder what in the name of the moon and the stars gave the alarm!”