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The best of the Texan sharpshooters lined the walls, and they fired occasionally at indistinct and flitting figures, but they were quite certain that they did no execution. The darkness was too great. Travis, Bowie and Crockett considered the possibility of a sortie, but they decided that it had no chance of success.
"Makes like a horny one on the prod," commented the Texan. "That's stud's a lotta hoss to handle, amigo." "Too much," the captain echoed Drew's earlier misgivings. "Keep him away from the rest until you're sure he won't start anything!" But that order fitted in with Drew's usual scouting duties.
"Looks like a clean sweep has been made of the Hahdy gang except Hahdy himself. I reckon I'll ride in and get him, so's to make the pahty complete." "Hardy!" the officer ejaculated. "I want that malo hombre and mighty bad, dead or alive!" "Let us go along!" burst out Tip. "No," laughed the Texan quietly. "Yo' boys have had enough dangah and excitement fo' one day, not includin' yestahday.
Like myself they are devoted adherents of the Texan cause, and it is more than likely that they will suffer terribly at the hands of some raiding party from Goliad, if they are not warned in time. I have tried to steel my heart and go straight with you to Goliad, but I cannot forget those who are so dear to me.
When he thinks of Conchita of that scene in the cotton-wood grove of the Texan kissing her holding her in his fond embrace when the Indian recalls all this, torturing his soul afresh, then no more remorse, not a spark of regret, not a ray of repentance! No; perish the dueno the duena too! Let die the good doctor, if need be all whom his vengeance has devoted!
The Texan, after glancing closely along the rim of the roof, not forgetting to take a peep over the peak, turned his gaze to the northward, and listened for the sounds that were so long in coming. Not the glimmer of a light showed in that direction, nor could he catch the faintest sound of a galloping hoof, other than such as was made by the mustangs of the Comanches near the building.
Here is one of his vivid, realistic pen pictures of the famous Texan: "We walked towards the President's house, accompanied by the Secretary of the Navy, and as soon as we rose above the bank, we saw before us a level of far-extending prairie, destitute of timber, and rather poor soil.
These red sharpshooters had the advantage of always knowing the position of their enemy, while they could shift their own as they saw fit. The Texan marksmen, worn and weary though they were, returned to their task. They could not see the Indians, but they used an old device, often successful in border warfare. Whenever an Indian fired a spurt of smoke shot up from his rifle's muzzle.
"You keep the letter, 'Deaf'," said the Panther, "an' now that we've got a horse for Ned I guess we can go a little faster. How you feelin' now, Ned?" "Fine," replied Ned. "Don't you bother about me any more. I started on the upgrade the moment you fellows found me." "A good horse and a good rifle ought to be enough to bring back the strength to any Texan," said Obed White.
That the Texan was right in suspecting one of the warriors was so very near was proven a moment later, when a second Indian approached with his mustang on the walk, dropped lightly to the ground, and coming forward, halted so close to the door that he almost touched it. The captain knew this because he heard the two talking in low tones.
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