No answer came to his call.  Some freak of the moonlight still kept the shadowy head in view, while its owner remained completely hidden, unconscious, perhaps, that any part of his reflection was showing.  Ned did not know what to do.  After waiting a long time, and, seeing that the shadow did not move, he edged his way partly around the trunk, and stopped where he was still protected by the ground and the tree.  He saw the shadowy head shift to the same extent that he had moved, but he heard no sound.

He called again and more loudly.  He said:  “I am a Texan; if you are a friend, say so!” No one would mistake his voice for that of a Mexican.  No reply came from behind the tree.

Ned was annoyed.  This was most puzzling and he did not like puzzles.  Moreover, his situation was dangerous.  If he left his tree, the man behind the other one—­and he did not doubt now that he was an enemy—­could probably take a shot at him.

He tried every maneuver that he knew to draw the shot, while he yet lay in ambush, but none succeeded.  His wary enemy knew every ruse.  Had it not been for the shadowy head, yet visible in the moonlight, Ned might have concluded that he had gone.  He had now been behind the tree a full half hour, and during all that time he had not heard a single sound from his foe.  The singular situation, so unusual in its aspect, and so real in its danger, began to get upon his nerves.

He thought at last of something which he believed would draw the fire of the ambushed Mexican.  He carried a pistol as well as a rifle, and, carefully laying the cocked rifle by his side, he drew the smaller weapon.  Then he crept about the tree, purposely making a little noise.  He saw the shadowy head move, and he knew that his enemy was seeking a shot.  He heard for the first time a slight sound, and he could tell from it exactly where the man lay.

Raising his pistol he fired, and the bark flew from the right side of the tree.  A man instantly sprang out, rifle in hand, and rushed toward him expecting to take him, unarmed.  Like a flash Ned seized his own cocked rifle and covered the man.  When he looked down the sights he saw that it was Urrea.

Urrea halted, taken by surprise.  His own rifle was not leveled, and Ned held his life at his gun muzzle.

“Stop, Don Francisco, or I fire,” said the boy.  “I did not dream that it was you, and I am sorry that I was wrong.”

Urrea recovered very quickly from his surprise.  He did not seek to raise his rifle, knowing that it was too late.

“Well,” he said, “why don’t you fire?”

“I don’t know,” replied Ned.

“I would do it in your place.”

“I know it, but there is a difference between us and I am glad of that difference, egotistical as it may sound.”

“There is another difference which perhaps you do not have in mind.  You are a Texan, an American, and I am a Mexican.  That is why I came among you and claimed to be one of you.  You were fools to think that I, Francisco Urrea, could ever fight for Texas against Mexico.”