“When I reached the street there was much excitement and many soldiers running about, but being a Mexican it was easy for me to pass unsuspected in the crowd.  I reached the home of a relative, at heart a sympathizer with Texas and liberty, where my wound was bound up, and where I lay hidden until morning, when I was smuggled out of the town.  Then I made my way among the oaks and pecans, until I came here to our camp on the Salado.  I had inquired for you during the night, and, not hearing any news of your capture, I was sure that you were in hiding as I was, and when I came here my best hopes were confirmed by the news of your complete escape.  Mr. White has already given me all the details.  We have been very lucky indeed, and we should be thankful.”

“We are!  We truly are!” exclaimed Ned, grasping his hand again.

The news brought by Ned and his comrades was so important that the Texans could not be restrained.  A few mornings later Bowie called upon the boy, Obed and the Ring Tailed Panther for a new service.

“Mr. Austin has told me to take a strong party,” he said, “and scout up to the very suburbs of San Antonio, because we are going to choose a new and closer position.  There are to be ninety of us, including you three, ‘Deaf’ Smith and Henry Karnes, and we are to retire if the Mexicans undertake an attack upon us, that is, if we have time—­you understand, if we have time.”

Ned saw Bowie’s big eyes glitter, and he understood.  The party, the envy of all the others, rode out of the camp in the absence of Urrea.  Bowie had not asked him, as he did not seem to fancy the young Mexican, but Ned put it down to racial prejudice.  Urrea had not been visible when they started, but Ned thought chagrin at being ignored was the cause of it.  Fannin also went along, associated with Bowie in the leadership, but Bowie was the animating spirit.  They rode directly toward San Antonio, and, as the distance was very short, they soon saw Mexican sentinels on horseback, some carrying lances and some with rifles or muskets.  They would withdraw gradually at the appearance of the Texans, keeping just out of gunshot, but always watching these dangerous horsemen whom they had learned to fear.  The Texans were near enough to see from some points the buildings of the town, and the veins of the Ring Tailed Panther swelled with ambition.

“Ned,” he said to the boy who rode by his side, “if Bowie would only give the word we would gallop right into town, smashing through the Mexicans.”

“We might gallop into it,” said Ned, laughing, “but we couldn’t gallop out again.  No, no, Panther, we mustn’t forget that the Mexicans can fight.  Besides, Bowie isn’t going to give the word.”

“No, he ain’t,” said the Ring Tailed Panther with a sigh, “an’ we won’t get the chance to make one of the finest dashes ever heard of in war.”

“He who doesn’t dash but rides away will live to dash another day,” said Obed White oracularly.