They made their discontent vocal that and the following evenings.  There was no particular order among the Texans.  They usually acted in groups, according to the localities from which they came, and some, believing that nothing would be done, had gone home disgusted.  Mr. Austin himself had left, and Houston had persisted in his refusal to command.  Burleson, a veteran Indian fighter, had finally been chosen for the leadership.  Houston soon left, and Bowie, believing that nothing would be done, followed him.

It was only a few days after the grass fight, and despite that victory, Ned felt the current of depression.  It seemed that their fortune was melting away without their ever putting it to the touch.  Although new men had come their force was diminishing in numbers and San Antonio was farther from their hands than ever.

“If we don’t do something before long,” said Henry Karnes, “we’ll just dissolve like a snow before a warm wind.”

“An’ all our rippin’ an’ tearin’ will go for nothin’,” growled the Ring Tailed Panther.  “We’ve won every fight we’ve been in, an’ yet they won’t let us go into that town an’ have it out with Cos.”

“We’ll get it yet,” said Obed cheerfully.  “In war it’s a long lane that has no battle at the end.  Just you be patient, Panther.  Patience will have her good fight.  I’ve tested it more than once myself.”

Ned did not say anything.  He had made himself a comfortable place, and, as the cold night wind was whistling among the oaks and pecans, the fire certainly looked very good to him.  He watched the flames leap and sink, and the great beds of coals form, and once more he was very glad that he was not alone again on the Mexican mountains.  He resolutely put off the feeling of depression.  They might linger and hesitate now, but he did not doubt that the cause of Texas would triumph in the end.

Ned was restless that night, so restless that he could not sleep, and, after a futile effort, he rose, folded up his blankets and wandered about the camp.  It was a body of volunteers drawn together by patriotism and necessity for a common purpose, and one could do almost as one pleased.  There was a ring of sentinels, but everybody knew everybody else and scouts, skirmishers and foragers passed at will.

Ned was fully armed, of course, and, leaving the camp, he entered an oak grove that lay between it and the city.  As there was no underbrush here and little chance for ambush he felt quite safe.  Behind him he saw the camp and the lights of the scattered fires now dying, but before him he saw only the trunks of the trees and the dusky horizon beyond.

Ned had no definite object in view, but he thought vaguely of scouting along the river.  One could never know too much about the opposing force, and experience added to natural gifts had given him great capabilities.

He advanced deeper into the pecan grove, and reached the point where the trees grew thickest.  There, where the moonlight fell he saw a shadow lying along the ground, the shadow of a man.  Ned sprang behind a tree and lay almost flat.  The shadow had moved, but he could still see a head.  He felt sure that its owner was behind another tree not yet ten feet distant.  Perhaps some Mexican scout like himself.  On the other hand, it might be Smith or Karnes, and he called softly.