SANTA ANNA'S ADVANCE
The three rode abreast, Ned in the center. The boy was on terms of
perfect equality with Obed and the Panther. They treated him as a man
among men, and respected his character, rather grave for one so young,
and always keen to learn.
The land rolled away in swells as usual throughout a great part of
Texas, but they were not of much elevation and the red glow in the south
was always in sight, deepening fast as they advanced. They stopped at
last on a little elevation within the shadow of some myrtle oaks, and
saw the fires spread before them only four or five hundred yards away,
and along a line of at least two miles. They heard the confused murmur
of many men. The dark outlines of cannon were seen against the
firelight, and now and then the musical note of a mandolin or guitar
came to them.
"We was right in our guess," said the Panther. "It's a lot bigger force
than the one that Cos led away from San Antonio, an' it will take a heap
of rippin' an' t'arin' an' roarin' to turn it back. Our people don't
know how much is comin' ag'in 'em."
The Panther spoke in a solemn tone. Ned saw that he was deeply impressed
and that he feared for the future. Good cause had he. Squabbles among
the Texan leaders had reduced their army to five or six hundred men.
"Don't you think," said Ned, "that we ought to find out just exactly
what is here, and what this army intends?"
"Not a doubt of it," said Obed. "Those who have eyes to see should not
go away without seeing."
The Panther nodded violently in assent.
"We must scout about the camp," he said. "Mebbe we'd better divide an'
then we can all gather before day-break at the clump of trees back
there."
He pointed to a little cluster of trees several hundred yards back of
them, and Ned and Obed agreed. The Panther turned away to the right,
Obed to the left and Ned took the center. Their plan of dividing their
force had a great advantage. One man was much less likely than three to
attract undue attention.
Ned went straight ahead a hundred yards or more, when he was stopped by
an arroyo five or six feet wide and with very deep banks. He looked
about, uncertain at first what to do. Obed and the Panther had already
disappeared in the dusk. Before him glowed the red light, and he heard
the distant sound of many voices.
Ned quickly decided. He remembered how they had escaped up the bed of
the creek when they were besieged by Urrea, and if one could leave by an
arroyo, one could also approach by it. He rode to the group of trees
that had been designated as the place of meeting, and left his horse
there. He noticed considerable grass within the ring of trunks, and he
was quite confident that Old Jack would remain there until his return.
But he addressed to him words of admonition:
"Be sure that you stay among these trees, old friend," he said, "because
it's likely that when I want you I'll want you bad. Remain and attend to
this grass."
Old Jack whinnied softly and, after his fashion, rubbed his nose gently
against his master's arm. It was sufficient for Ned. He was sure that
the horse understood, and leaving him he went back to the arroyo, which
he entered without hesitation.
Ned was well armed, as every one then had full need to be. He wore a
sombrero in the Mexican fashion, and flung over his shoulders was a
great serape which he had found most useful in the winter. With his
perfect knowledge of Spanish and its Mexican variants he believed that
if surprised he could pass as a Mexican, particularly in the night and
among so many.
The arroyo led straight down toward the plain upon which the Mexicans
were encamped, and when he emerged from it he saw that the fires which
at a distance looked like one continuous blaze were scores in number.
Many of them were built of buffalo chips and others of light wood that
burned fast. Sentinels were posted here and there, but they kept little
watch. Why should they? Here was a great Mexican army, and there was
certainly no foe amounting to more than a few men within a hundred
miles.
Ned's heart sank as he beheld the evident extent of the Mexican array.
The little Texan force left in the field could be no match for such an
army as this.
Nevertheless, his resolution to go through the Mexican camp hardened. If
he came back with a true and detailed tale of their numbers the Texans
must believe and prepare. He drew the brim of his sombrero down a little
further, and pulled his serape up to meet it. The habit the Mexicans had
of wrapping their serapes so high that they were covered to the nose was
fortunate at this time. He was now completely disguised, without the
appearance of having taken any unusual precaution.
He walked forward boldly and sat down with a group beside a fire. He
judged by the fact that they were awake so late that they had but little
to do, and he saw at once also that they were Mexicans from the far
south. They were small, dark men, rather amiable in appearance. Two
began to play guitars and they sang a plaintive song to the music. The
others, smoking cigarritos, listened attentively and luxuriously. Ned
imitated them perfectly. He, too, lying upon his elbow before the
pleasant fire, felt the influence of the music, so sweet, so murmurous,
speaking so little of war. One of the men handed him a cigarrito, and,
lighting it, he made pretense of smoking--he would not have seemed a
Mexican had he not smoked the cigarrito.
Lying there, Ned saw many tents, evidence of a camp that was not for the
day only, and he beheld officers in bright uniforms passing among them.
His heart gave a great jump when he noticed among them a heavy-set, dark
man. It was Cos, Cos the breaker of oaths. With him was another officer
whose uniform indicated the general. Ned learned later that this was
Sesma, who had been dispatched with a brigade by Santa Anna to meet Cos
on the Rio Grande, where they were to remain until the dictator himself
came with more troops.
The music ceased presently and one of the men said to Ned:
"What company?"
Ned had prepared himself for such questions, and he moved his hand
vaguely toward the left.
"Over there," he said.
They were fully satisfied, and continued to puff their cigarritos,
resting their heads with great content upon pillows made of their
saddles and blankets. For a while they said nothing more, happily
watching the rings of smoke from their cigarritos rise and melt into the
air. Although small and short, they looked hardy and strong. Ned
noticed the signs of bustle and expectancy about the camp. Usually
Mexicans were asleep at this hour, and he wondered why they lingered.
But he did not approach the subject directly.
"A hard march," he said, knowing that these men about him had come a
vast distance.
"Aye, it was," said the man next on his right. "Santiago, but was it
not, José?"
José, the second man on the right, replied in the affirmative and with
emphasis:
"You speak the great truth, Carlos. Such another march I never wish to
make. Think of the hundreds and hundreds of miles we have tramped from
our warm lands far in the south across mountains, across bare and windy
deserts, with the ice and the snow beating in our faces. How I shivered,
Carlos, and how long I shivered! I thought I should continue shivering
all my life even if I lived to be a hundred, no matter how warmly the
sun might shine."
The others laughed, and seemed to Ned to snuggle a little closer to the
fire, driven by the memory of the icy plains.
"But it was the will of the great Santa Anna, surely the mightiest man
of our age," said Carlos. "They say that his wrath was terrible when he
heard how the Texan bandits had taken San Antonio de Bexar. Truly, I am
glad that I was not one of his officers, and that I was not in his
presence at the time. After all, it is sometimes better to be a common
soldier than to have command."
"Aye, truly," said Ned, and the others nodded in affirmation.
"But the great Santa Anna will finish it," continued Carlos, who seemed
to have the sin of garrulity. "He has defeated all his enemies in
Mexico, he has consolidated his power and now he advances with a mighty
force to crush these insolent and miserable Texans. As I have said, he
will finish it. The rope and the bullet will be busy. In six months
there will be no Texans."
Ned shivered, and when he looked at the camp fires of the great army he
saw that this peon was not talking foolishness. Nevertheless his mind
returned to its original point of interest. Why did the Mexican army
remain awake so late?
"Have you seen the President?" he asked of Carlos.
"Often," replied Carlos, with pride. "I fought under him in the great
battle on the plain of Guadalupe less than two years ago, when we
defeated Don Francisco Garcia, the governor of Zacatecas. Ah, it was a
terrible battle, my friends! Thousands and thousands were killed and all
Mexicans. Mexicans killing Mexicans. But who can prevail against the
great Santa Anna? He routed the forces of Garcia, and the City of
Zacatecas was given up to us to pillage. Many fine things I took that
day from the houses of those who presumed to help the enemy of our
leader. But now we care not to kill Mexicans, our own people. It is only
the miserable Texans who are really Gringos."
Carlos, who had been the most amiable of men, basking in the firelight,
now rose up a little and his eyes flashed. He had excited himself by his
own tale of the battle and loot of Zacatecas and the coming slaughter of
the Texans. That strain of cruelty, which in Ned's opinion always lay
embedded in the Spanish character, was coming to the surface.
Ned made no comment. His serape, drawn up to his nose, almost met the
brim of his sombrero and nobody suspected that the comrade who sat and
chatted with them was a Gringo, but he shivered again, nevertheless.
"We shall have a great force when it is all gathered," he said at
length.
"Seven thousand men or more," said José proudly, "and nearly all of them
are veterans of the wars. We shall have ten times the numbers of the
Texans, who are only hunters and rancheros."
"Have you heard when we march?" asked Ned, in a careless tone.
"As soon as the great Santa Anna arrives it will be decided, I doubt
not," said José. "The general and his escort should be here by
midnight."
Ned's heart gave a leap. So it was that for which they were waiting.
Santa Anna himself would come in an hour or two. He was very glad that
he had entered the Mexican camp. Bidding a courteous good night to the
men about the fire, he rose and sauntered on. It was easy enough for him
to do so without attracting attention, as many others were doing the
same thing. Discipline seldom amounted to much in a Mexican army, and so
confident were both officers and soldiers of an overwhelming victory
that they preserved scarcely any at all. Yet the expectant feeling
pervaded the whole camp, and now that he knew that Santa Anna was coming
he understood.
Santa Anna was the greatest man in the world to these soldiers. He had
triumphed over everything in their own country. He had exhibited
qualities of daring and energy that seemed to them supreme, and his
impression upon them was overwhelming. Ned felt once more that little
shiver. They might be right in their view of the Texan war.
He strolled on from fire to fire, until his attention was arrested
suddenly by one at which only officers sat. It was not so much the group
as it was one among them who drew his notice so strongly. Urrea was
sitting on the far side of the fire, every feature thrown into clear
relief by the bright flames. The other officers were young men of about
his own age and they were playing dice. They were evidently in high good
humor, as they laughed frequently.
Ned lay down just within the shadow of a tent wall, drew his serape
higher about his face, and rested his head upon his arm. He would have
seemed sound asleep to an ordinary observer, but he was never more wide
awake in his life. He was near enough to hear what Urrea and his friends
were saying, and he intended to hear it. It was for such that he had
come.
"You lose, Francisco," said one of the men as he made a throw of the
dice and looked eagerly at the result. "What was it that you were saying
about the general?"
"That I expect an early advance, Ramon," replied Urrea, "a brief
campaign, and a complete victory. I hate these Texans. I shall be glad
to see them annihilated."
The young officer whom he called Ramon laughed.
"If what I hear be true, Francisco," he said, "you have cause to hate
them. There was a boy, Fulton, that wild buffalo of a man, whom they
call the Panther, and another who defeated some of your finest plans."
Urrea flushed, but controlled his temper.
"It is true, Ramon," he replied. "The third man I can tell you is called
Obed White, and they are a clever three. I hate them, but it hurts my
pride less to be defeated by them than by any others whom I know."
"Well spoken, Urrea," said a third man, "but since these three are
fighters and will stay to meet us, it is a certainty that our general
will scoop them into his net. Then you can have all the revenge you
wish."
"I count upon it, Ambrosio," said Urrea, smiling. "I also hope that we
shall recapture the man Roylston. He has great sums of money in the
foreign banks in our country, and we need them, but our illustrious
president cannot get them without an order from Roylston. The general
would rather have Roylston than a thousand Texan prisoners."
All of them laughed, and the laugh made Ned, lying in the shadow, shiver
once more. Urrea glanced his way presently, but the recumbent figure did
not claim his notice. The attention of his comrades and himself became
absorbed in the dice again. They were throwing the little ivory cubes
upon a blanket, and Ned could hear them click as they struck together.
The sharp little sound began to flick his nerves. Not one to cherish
resentment, he nevertheless began to hate Urrea, and he included in that
hatred the young men with him. The Texans were so few and poor. The
Mexicans were so many, and they had the resources of a nation more than
two centuries old.
Ned rose by and by and walked on. He could imitate the Mexican gait
perfectly, and no one paid any attention to him. They were absorbed,
moreover, in something else, because now the light of torches could be
seen dimly in the south. Officers threw down cards and dice. Men
straightened their uniforms and Cos and Sesma began to form companies in
line. More fuel was thrown on the fires, which sprang up, suffusing all
the night with color and brightness. Ned with his rifle at salute fell
into place at the end of one of the companies, and no one knew that he
did not belong there. In the excitement of the moment he forgot all
about the Panther and Obed.
A thrill seemed to run through the whole Mexican force. It was the most
impressive scene that Ned had ever beheld. A leader, omnipotent in
their eyes, was coming to these men, and he came at midnight out of the
dark into the light.
The torches grew brighter. A trumpet pealed and a trumpet in the camp
replied. The Mexican lines became silent save for a deep murmur. In the
south they heard the rapid beat of hoofs, and then Santa Anna came,
galloping at the head of fifty horsemen. Many of the younger officers
ran forward, holding up torches, and the dictator rode in a blaze of
light.
Ned looked once more upon that dark and singular face, a face daring and
cruel, that might have belonged to one of the old conquistadores. In the
saddle his lack of height was concealed, but on the great white horse
that he rode Ned felt that he was an imposing, even a terrible, figure.
His eyes were blazing with triumph as his army united with torches to do
him honor. It was like Napoleon on the night before Austerlitz, and what
was he but the Napoleon of the New World? His figure swelled and the
gold braid on his cocked hat and gorgeous uniform reflected the beams of
the firelight.
A mighty cheer from thousands of throats ran along the Mexican line, and
the torches were waved until they looked like vast circles of fire.
Santa Anna lifted his hat and bowed three times in salute. Again the
Mexican cheer rolled to right and to left. Santa Anna, still sitting on
his horse, spread out his hands. There was instant silence save for the
deep breathing of the men.
"My children," he said, "I have come to sweep away these miserable
Texans who have dared to raise the rebel flag against us. We will punish
them all. Houston, Austin, Bowie and the rest of their leaders shall
feel our justice. When we finish our march over their prairies it shall
be as if a great fire had passed. I have said it. I am Santa Anna."
The thunderous cheer broke forth again. Ned had never before heard words
so full of conceit and vainglory, yet the strength and menace were
there. He felt it instinctively. Santa Anna believed himself to be the
greatest man in the world, and he was certainly the greatest in Mexico.
His belief in himself was based upon a deep well of energy and daring.
Once more Ned felt a great and terrible fear for Texas, and the thin
line of skin-clad hunters and ranchmen who were its sole defence. But
the feeling passed as he watched Santa Anna. A young officer rushed
forward and held his stirrup as the dictator dismounted. Then the
generals, including those who had come with him, crowded around him. It
was a brilliant company, including Sesma, Cos, Duque, Castrillon, Tolsa,
Gaona and others, among whom Ned noted a man of decidedly Italian
appearance. This was General Vincente Filisola, an Italian officer who
had received a huge grant of land in Texas, and who was now second in
command to Santa Anna.
Ned watched them as they talked together and occasionally the crowd
parted enough for him to see Santa Anna, who spoke and gesticulated with
great energy. The soldiers had been drawn away by the minor officers,
and were now dispersing to their places by the fires where they would
seek sleep.
Ned noticed a trim, slender figure on the outer edge of the group around
Santa Anna. It seemed familiar, and when the man turned he recognized
the face of Almonte, the gallant young Mexican colonel who had been kind
to him. He was sorry to see him there. He was sorry that he should have
to fight against him.
Santa Anna went presently to a great marquée that had been prepared for
him, and the other generals retired also to the tents that had been set
about it. The dictator was tired from his long ride and must not be
disturbed. Strict orders were given that there should be no noise in the
camp, and it quickly sank into silence.
Ned lay down before one of the fires at the western end of the camp
wrapped as before in his serape. He counterfeited sleep, but nothing was
further from his mind. It seemed to him that he had done all he could do
in the Mexican camp. He had seen the arrival of Santa Anna, but there
was no way to learn when the general would order an advance. But he
could infer from Santa Anna's well-known energy and ability that it
would come quickly.
Between the slit left by the brim of his sombrero and his serape he
watched the great fires die slowly. Most of the Mexicans were asleep
now, and their figures were growing indistinct in the shadows. But Ned,
rising, slouched forward, imitating the gait of the laziest of the
Mexicans. Yet his eyes were always watching shrewdly through the slit.
Very little escaped his notice. He went along the entire Mexican line
and then back again. He had a good mathematical mind, and he saw that
the estimate of 7,000 for the Mexican army was not too few. He also saw
many cannon and the horses for a great cavalry force. He knew, too, that
Santa Anna had with him the best regiments in the Mexican service.
On his last trip along the line Ned began to look for the Panther and
Obed, but he saw no figures resembling theirs, although he was quite
sure that he would know the Panther in any disguise owing to his great
size. This circumstance would make it more dangerous for the Panther
than for either Obed or himself, as Urrea, if he should see so large a
man, would suspect that it was none other than the redoubtable
frontiersman.
Ned was thinking of this danger to the Panther when he came face to face
with Urrea himself. The young Mexican captain was not lacking in
vigilance and energy, and even at that late hour he was seeing that all
was well in the camp of Santa Anna. Ned was truly thankful now that
Mexican custom and the coldness of the night permitted him to cover his
face with his serape and the brim of his sombrero.
"Why are you walking here?" demanded Urrea.
"I've just taken a message to General Castrillon," replied Ned.
He had learned already that Castrillon commanded the artillery, and as
he was at least a mile away he thought this the safest reply.
"From whom?" asked Urrea shortly.
"Pardon, sir," replied Ned, in his best Spanish, disguising his voice as
much as possible, "but I am not allowed to tell."
Ned's tone was courteous and apologetic, and in ninety-nine cases out of
a hundred Urrea would have contented himself with an impatient word or
two. But he was in a most vicious temper. Perhaps he had been rebuked by
Santa Anna for allowing the rescue of Roylston.
"Why don't you speak up?" he exclaimed. "Why do you mumble your words,
and why do you stand in such a slouching manner. Remember that a soldier
should stand up straight."
"Yes, my captain," said Ned, but he did not change his attitude. The
tone and manner of Urrea angered him. He forgot where he was and his
danger.
Urrea's swarthy face flushed. He carried in his hand a small riding
whip, which he switched occasionally across the tops of his tall,
military boots.
"Lout!" he cried. "You hear me! Why do you not obey!"
Ned stood impassive. Certainly Urrea had had a bad half hour somewhere.
His temper leaped beyond control.
"Idiot!" he exclaimed.
Then he suddenly lashed Ned across the face with the little riding whip.
The blow fell on serape and sombrero and the flesh was not touched, but
for a few moments Ned went mad. He dropped his rifle, leaped upon the
astonished officer, wrenched the whip from his hands, slashed him across
the cheeks with it until the blood ran in streams, then broke it in two
and threw the pieces in his face. Ned's serape fell away. Urrea had
clasped his hands to his cheeks that stung like fire, but now he
recognized the boy.
"Fulton!" he cried.
The sharp exclamation brought Ned to a realization of his danger. He
seized his rifle, pulled up the serape and sprang back. Already Mexican
soldiers were gathering. It was truly fortunate for Ned that he was
quick of thought, and that his thoughts came quickest when the danger
was greatest. He knew that the cry of "Fulton!" was unintelligible to
them, and he exclaimed:
"Save me, comrades! He tried to beat me without cause, and now he would
kill me, as you see!"
Urrea had drawn a pistol and was shouting fiery Mexican oaths. The
soldiers, some of them just awakened from sleep, and all of them dazed,
had gathered in a huddle, but they opened to let Ned pass. Excessive and
cruel punishment was common among them. A man might be flogged half to
death at the whim of an officer, and instinctively they protected their
comrade.
As the Mexican group closed up behind him, and between him and Urrea,
Ned ran at top speed toward the west where the arroyo cut across the
plain. More Mexicans were gathering, and there was great confusion.
Everybody was asking what was the matter. The boy's quick wit did not
desert him. There was safety in ignorance and the multitude.
He quickly dropped to a walk and he, too, began to ask of others what
had caused the trouble. All the while he worked steadily toward the
arroyo, and soon he left behind him the lights and the shouting. He now
came into the dark, passed beyond the Mexican lines, and entered the cut
in the earth down which he had come.
He was compelled to sit down on the sand and relax. He was exhausted by
the great effort of both mind and body which had carried him through so
much danger. His heart was beating heavily and he felt dizzy. But his
eyes cleared presently and his strength came back. He considered himself
safe. In the darkness it was not likely that any of the Mexicans would
stumble upon him.
He thought of the Panther and Obed, but he could do nothing for them. He
must trust to meeting them again at the place appointed. He looked at
the Mexican camp. The fires had burned up again there for a minute or
two, but as he looked they sank once more. The noise also decreased.
Evidently they were giving up the pursuit.
Ned rose and walked slowly up the arroyo. He became aware that the night
was very cold and it told on his relaxed frame. He pulled up the serape
again, and now it was for warmth and not for disguise. He stopped at
intervals to search the darkness with his eyes and to listen for noises.
He might meet with an enemy or he might meet with one of his friends. He
was prepared for either. He had regained control of himself both body
and mind, and his ready rifle rested in the hollow of his arm.
He met neither. He heard nothing but the usual sighing of the prairie
wind that ceased rarely, and he saw nothing but the faint glow on the
southern horizon that marked the Mexican camp where he had met his
enemy.
He left the arroyo, and saw a dark shadow on the plain, the figure of a
man, rifle in hand, Ned instantly sprang back into the arroyo and the
stranger did the same. A curve in the line of this cut in the earth now
hid them from each other, and Ned, his body pressed against the bank,
waited with beating heart. He had no doubt that it was a Mexican
sentinel or scout more vigilant than the others, and he felt his danger.
Ned in this crisis used the utmost caution. He did not believe that any
other would come, and it must be a test of patience between him and his
enemy. Whoever showed his head first would be likely to lose in the duel
for life. He pressed himself closer and closer against the bank, and
sought to detect some movement of the stranger. He saw nothing and he
did not hear a sound. It seemed that the man had absolutely vanished
into space. It occurred to Ned that it might have been a mere figment of
the dusk and his excited brain, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He
had seen the man and he had seen him leap into the arroyo. There could
be no doubt of it.
There was another long wait, and the suspense became acute. The man was
surely on the other side of that curve waiting for him. He was held
fast. He was almost as much a prisoner as if he lay bound in the Mexican
camp. It seemed to him, too, that the darkness was thinning a little. It
would soon be day and then he could not escape the notice of horsemen
from Santa Anna's army. He decided that he must risk an advance and he
began creeping forward cautiously. He remembered now what he had
forgotten in the first moments of the meeting. He might yet, even
before this sentinel or scout, pass as a Mexican.
He stopped suddenly when he heard a low whistle in front of him. While
it could be heard but a short distance, it was singularly sweet. It
formed the first bars of an old tune, "The World Turned Upside Down,"
and Ned promptly recognized it. The whistle stopped in a moment or two,
but Ned took up the air and continued it for a few bars more. Then, all
apprehension gone, he sprang out of the arroyo and stood upon the bank.
Another figure was projected from the arroyo and stood upon the bank
facing him, not more than twenty feet away.
Simultaneously Obed White and Edward Fulton advanced, shook hands and
laughed.
"You kept me here waiting in this gully at least half an hour," said
Obed. "Time and I waited long on you."
"But no longer than I waited on you," said Ned. "Why didn't you think of
whistling the tune sooner?"
"Why didn't you?"
They laughed and shook hands again.
"At any rate, we're here together again, safe and unharmed," said Ned.
"And now to see what has become of the Panther."
"You'd better be lookin' out for yourselves instead of the Panther,"
growled a voice, as a gigantic figure upheaved itself from the arroyo
eight or ten yards behind them. "I could have picked you both off while
you were standin' there shakin' hands, an' neither of you would never
have knowed what struck him."
"The Panther!" they exclaimed joyously, and they shook hands with him
also.
"An' now," said the Panther, "it will soon be day. We'd better make fur
our horses an' then clear out. We kin tell 'bout what we've seen an'
done when we're two or three miles away."
They found the horses safe in the brushwood, Old Jack welcoming Ned with
a soft whinny. They were in the saddle at once, rode swiftly northward,
and none of them spoke for a half hour. When a faint tinge of gray
appeared on the eastern rim of the world the Panther said:
"My tale's short. I couldn't get into the camp, 'cause I'm too big. The
very first fellow I saw looked at me with s'picion painted all over him.
So I had to keep back in the darkness. But I saw it was a mighty big
army. It can do a lot of rippin', an' t'arin', an' chawin'."
"I got into the camp," said Obed, after a minute of silence, "but as I'm
not built much like a Mexican, being eight or ten inches too tall, men
were looking at me as if I were a strange specimen. One touch of
difference and all the world's staring at you. So I concluded that I'd
better stay on the outside of the lines. I hung around, and I saw just
what Panther saw, no more and no less. Then I started back and I struck
the arroyo, which seemed to me a good way for leaving. But before I had
gone far I concluded I was followed. So I watched the fellow who was
following, and the fellow who was following watched me for about a year.
The watch was just over when you came up, Panther. It was long, but it's
a long watch that has no ending."
"And I," said Ned, after another wait of a minute, "being neither so
tall as Obed nor so big around as the Panther, was able to go about in
the Mexican camp without any notice being taken of me. I saw Santa Anna
arrive to take the chief command."
"Santa Anna himself?" exclaimed the Panther.
"Yes, Santa Anna himself. They gave him a great reception. After a while
I started to come away. I met Urrea. He took me for a peon, gave me an
order, and when I didn't obey it tried to strike me across the face with
a whip."
"And what did you do?" exclaimed the two men together.
"I took the whip away from him and lashed his cheeks with it. I was
recognized, but in the turmoil and confusion I escaped. Then I had the
encounter with Obed White, of which he has told already."
"Since Santa Anna has come," said the Panther, "they're likely to move
at any moment. We'll ride straight for the cabin an' the boys."