“But this is Mexico, and it is Santa Anna who holds us.”

“That is true, and it is Santa Anna who is our best friend.”

Ned did not dispute the sanguine saying.  He saw that Mr. Austin had his opinion, and he had his.  The door was opened again in a half hour and a soldier brought them their supper.  Young de Zavala, who was their immediate guardian, also entered and stood by while they ate.  They had never received poor food, and to-night Mexican hospitality exerted itself—­at the insistence of Santa Anna, Ned surmised.  In addition to the regular supper there was an ice and a bottle of Spanish wine.

“The President has just given an order that the greatest courtesy be shown to you at all times,” said de Zavala, “and I am very glad.  I, too, have people in that territory of ours from which you come—­Texas.”

He spoke with undeniable sympathy, and Ned felt his heart warm toward him, but he decided to say nothing.  He feared that he might betray by some chance word the plan that he had in mind.  But Mr. Austin, believing in others because he was so truthful and honest himself, talked freely.

“All our troubles will soon be over,” he said to de Zavala.

“I hope so, Senor,” said the young man earnestly.

By and by, when de Zavala and the soldier were gone, Ned went again to the window, stood there a few moments to harden his resolution, and then came back to the man.

“Mr. Austin,” he said, “I am going to ask your consent to something.”

The Texan looked up in surprise.

“Why, Edward, my lad,” he said kindly, “you don’t have to ask my consent to anything, after the way in which you have already sacrificed yourself for me.”

“But I am not going to stay with you any longer, Mr. Austin—­that is, if I can help it.  I am going back to Texas.”

Mr. Austin laughed.  It was a mellow and satisfied laugh.

“So you are, Edward,” he said, “and I am going with you.  You will help me to bear a message of peace and safety to the Texans.”

Ned paused a moment, irresolute.  There was no change in his determination.  He was merely uncertain about the words to use.

“There may be delays,” he said at last, “and—­Mr. Austin, I have decided to go alone—­and within the next day or two if I can.”

The Texan’s face clouded.

“I cannot understand you,” he said.  “Why this hurry?  It would in reality be a breach of faith to our great friend, Santa Anna—­that is, if you could go.  I don’t believe you can.”

Ned was troubled.  He was tempted to tell what was in his mind, but he knew that he would not be believed, so he fell back again upon his infinite capacity for silence.  Mr. Austin read resolution in the closed lips and rigid figure.

“Do you really mean that you will attempt to steal away?” he asked.

“As soon as I can.”

The man shook his head.