“Poor Urrea!” said the Ring Tailed Panther.  “This is the worst riddle I ever run up ag’inst an’ the more I think about it the more riddlin’ it gets.”

The three sighed together and then sped over the prairie toward the camp on the Salado.

CHAPTER XIX

THE BATTLE BY THE RIVER

It was not yet daylight when they approached the Texan camp.  Despite the fact that the Texan force was merely a band of volunteer soldiers there was an abundance of sentinels and they were halted when they were within a half mile of the Salado.  But they were recognized quickly, and they passed within the lines, where, in the first rosy shoot of the dawn, they saw Bowie going the rounds of the outposts.

“What!” he exclaimed.  “Back already!  Then you did not get into the town!”

“We went right into it.  We split it wide open,” said the Ring Tailed Panther.

Bowie’s blue eyes glittered.

“But you are only three,” he said.  “Where is Urrea?”

“We lost him an’ we don’t know how it happened.  We know that he’s gone, an’ that’s all.”

Bowie took them to Mr. Austin’s tent, where they told to him, Houston, Fannin and the others all that they had seen in San Antonio.  In view of the fact, now clearly proved, that Cos was fortifying night and day, Bowie and all the more ardent spirits urged a prompt attack, but Mr. Austin, essentially a man of peace, hung back.  He thought their force too small.  He was confirmed, too, in the belief of his own unfitness to be a leader in war.

“General,” he said, turning to Houston, “you must take the command here.  It would be impossible to find one better suited to the place.”

But Houston shook his head.  He would not agree to it.  Able and ambitious, he refused, nevertheless.  Perhaps he did not yet understand the full fighting power of the Texans, and he feared to be identified with failure, in case they made the assault upon San Antonio.

When Ned and his comrades withdrew from the tent they went to one of the breakfast fires, where they ate broiled strips of buffalo and deer, and drank coffee.  Then Ned rolled in his blankets, and slept under an oak tree.  When he awoke about noon he sprang to his feet with a cry of joy and surprise.  Urrea was standing beside him, somewhat pale, and with his left hand in a sling, but the young Mexican himself, nevertheless.  Ned seized his right hand and gave it a powerful grip.

“We thought you as good as dead, Don Francisco,” he said.  “We were sure that you had been taken by Cos.”

“I thought both things myself for a few wild moments,” said Urrea, smiling.  “When we rushed from the patio one of the bullets grazed me, but in my excitement as we passed the gate I ran down the alley toward the street, instead of turning in toward the barn, as I have since learned from Mr. White that you did.  My wrist was grazed by one of the bullets, fired from the piazza, but fortunately I had the presence of mind to wrap it in the serape that I wore.