Ned heard Obed"s rifle crack with his own, but he could not turn his head to see the result. He s.n.a.t.c.hed up his pistol and fired a second shot which severely wounded a Lipan rider, and then all three parties of the Lipans, fearing the formidable hedge, turned and galloped back, leaving two of their number lifeless upon the ground.
Obed had not fired his pistol, but he stood holding it in his hand, his eyes flashing with grim triumph. Ned was rapidly reloading his rifle.
"If we didn"t burn their n.o.ble Lipan faces then I"m mightily mistaken,"
said Obed, as he too began to reload his rifle. "A charge that is not pressed home is no charge at all. Hark, what is that?"
There was a sudden crash of rifle shots in the forest, the long whining whoop of the Lipans and then hard upon it a deep hoa.r.s.e cheer.
"White men!" exclaimed Ned.
"And Texans!" said Obed. "Such a roar as that never came from Mexican throats. It"s friends! Do you hear, Ned, it"s friends! There go the Indians!"
Across the far edge of the open went the Lipans in wild flight, and, as they pressed their mustangs for more speed, bullets urged them to efforts yet greater. Fifteen or twenty men galloped from the trees, and Ned and Obed, breaking cover, greeted them with joyous shouts, which the men returned in kind.
"You don"t come to much," exclaimed Ned, "but we can say to you that never were men more welcome."
"Which I beg to repeat and emphasize," said Obed White.
"Speak a little louder," said the foremost of the men, leaning from his horse and couching one hand behind his ear.
Ned repeated his words in a much stronger tone, and the man nodded and smiled. Ned looked at him with the greatest interest. He was of middle age and medium size. Hair and eyes were intensely black, and his complexion was like dark leather. Dressed in Indian costume he could readily have pa.s.sed for a warrior. Yet this man had come from the far northern state of New York, and it was only the burning suns of the Texas and North Mexican plains that had turned him to his present darkness.
"Glad to meet you, my boy," he said, leaning from his horse and holding out a powerful hand, burnt as dark as his face. "My name"s Smith, Erastus Smith."
Ned grasped his hand eagerly. This was the famous "Deaf" Smith--destined to become yet more famous--although they generally p.r.o.nounced it D-e-e-f in Texas.
"Guess we didn"t come out of season," said Smith with a smile.
"You certainly didn"t," broke in Obed. "There"s a time for all things, and this was your time!"
"I believe they"re real glad to see us. Don"t you think so, Jim?" said Smith with a smile.
The man whom he called Jim had been sitting on his horse, silent, and he remained silent yet, but he nodded in reply. Ned"s gaze traveled to him and he was certainly a striking figure. He was over six feet in height, with large blue eyes and fair hair. His expression was singularly gentle and mild, but his appearance nevertheless, both face and figure, indicated unusual strength. Obed had not noticed him before, but now he exclaimed joyfully:
"Why, it"s Colonel Jim Bowie! Jim, it"s me, Obed White! Shake hands!"
"So it is you, Obed," said the redoubtable Bowie, "and here we shake."
The hands of the two met in a powerful clasp. Then they all dismounted and another man, short and thick, shook Obed by the hand and called him by his first name. He was Henry Karnes, the Tennesseean, great scout and famous borderer of the Texas plains.
Ned looked with admiration at these men, whose names were great to him.
On the wild border where life depended almost continually upon skill and quickness with weapons, "Deaf" Smith, Jim Bowie and Henry Karnes were already heroes to youth. Ned thrilled. He was here with his own people, and with the greatest of them. He had finished his long journey and he was with the Texans. The words shaped themselves again and again in his brain, the Texans! the Texans! the Texans!
"You two seem to have given the Lipans a lot of trouble," said Bowie, looking at the two fallen warriors.
"We were putting all the obstacles we could in the way of what they wanted," said Obed modestly, "but we don"t know what would have happened if you hadn"t come. Those fellows had been following us for days, and they must have had some idea that you were near, or they would have waited still longer."
"They must not have known that we were as near as we were," said Bowie, "or they would not have invited our attack. We heard the firing and galloped to it at once. But you two need something better than talk."
He broke off suddenly, because Ned had sat down on one of the logs, looking white and ill. The collapse had come after so many terrible trials and privations, and not even his will could hold him.
"Here, you take a drink of this water, it"s good and cold," said "Deaf"
Smith kindly as he held out a canteen. "I reckon that no boy has ever pa.s.sed through more than you have, and if there"s any hero you are one."
"Good words," said Bowie.
Ned smiled. These words were healing balm to his pride. To be praised thus by these famous Texans was ample reward. Besides, he had great and vital news to all, and he knew that Obed would wait for him to tell it.
"I think," said Bowie, "that we"d better camp for the night in the clump of trees that served you two so well, and, before it"s dark, we"ll look around and see what spoil is to be had."
They found three rifles that had been dropped by slain or wounded Lipans, and they were well pleased to get them, as rifles were about to become the most valuable of all articles in Texas. They also recovered Ned and Obed"s horses, which the Indians had left in the valley, evidently expecting to take them away, when they secured the scalps of the two fugitives.
Ned, after the cold water and a little rest, fully recovered his strength and poise, but the men would not let him do any work, telling him that he had already done his share. So he sat on his log and watched them as they prepared camp and supper. Besides being the Texans and his own people, to whom he had come after the long journey of perils, they made a wonderful appeal. These were the bold riders, the dauntless, the fearless. He would not find here the pliancy, the cunning, the craft and the dark genius of Santa Anna, but he would find men who talked straight, who shot straight, and who feared n.o.body.
They were sixteen in number, and all were clad wholly in buckskin, with fur caps upon their heads. They were heavily armed, every man carrying at least a rifle, a pistol, and a formidable knife, invented by Bowie.
All were powerful physically, and every face had been darkened by the sun. Ned felt that such a group as this was a match for a hundred Mexicans or Lipans.
They worked dextrously and rapidly, unsaddling their horses and tethering them where they could graze in the open, drawing up the dead wood until it made a heap which was quickly lighted, and then cooking strips of venison over the coals. There was so much life, so much cheerfulness, and so much a.s.surance of strength and invincibility that Ned began to feel as if he did not have a care left. All the men already called him Ned, and he felt that every one of them was his friend.
Karnes put a strip of venison on the sharp end of a stick, and broiled it over the blaze. It gave out a singularly appetizing odor, and when it was done he extended it to the boy.
"Here, Ned," he said, "take this on the end of your knife and eat it.
I"ll wager that you haven"t had any good warm victuals for a week, and it will taste mighty well."
Ned ate it and asked for more. He would have done his own cooking, but they would not let him. They seemed to take a pleasure in helping him, and, used as they were to hardships and danger, they admired all the more the tenacity and courage that had brought a boy so far.
"We can promise you one thing, Ned," said "Deaf" Smith. "We"ll see that you and Obed have a full night"s good sleep and I guess you"ll like that about as much as a big supper."
"We certainly will," said Obed. "Sleep has got a lot of knitting to do in my case."
"The same is true of me," said Ned, who had now eaten about all he wanted, "but before I roll up in the blankets I want to say something to you men."
His voice had suddenly become one of great gravity, and, despite his youth, it impressed them. The darkness had now come, but the fire made a center of light. They had put themselves in easy att.i.tudes about it, while the horses grazed just beyond them.
"I come from Texas myself," said Ned, "although I was born in Missouri.
My parents are dead, and I thought I could make my way in Texas. I met Mr. Austin who is related to me, and he was good to me more than once.
When he went to Mexico to talk with the rulers there about our troubles I went with him. I was a prisoner with him in the City of Mexico, and I often saw the dictator, Santa Anna, and his brother-in-law, General Cos."
Ned paused and a deep "Ah!" came from the men. They felt from his face and manner that he was telling no idle tale.
"They said many fine words to Mr. Austin," said Ned, "and always they promised that they were going to do great things for Texas. But much time pa.s.sed and they did nothing. Also they kept Mr. Austin a prisoner.
Then I escaped. I believed that they were preparing to attack Texas. I was right. I was recaptured and both President Santa Anna and General Cos told me so. They told me because they did not believe I could escape again, as they sent me to one of the submarine dungeons under the castle of San Juan de Ulua. But even under the sea I found a friend, Obed here, and we escaped together. We have since seen the army of General Cos, and it is marching straight upon Texas. Santa Anna means to crush us and to execute all our leaders."
Again came that deep murmurous "Ah!" and now it was full of anger and defiance.
"You say you saw the army of Cos?" asked Bowie.
"Yes," replied Ned, "I saw it before I was taken to the castle of San Juan de Ulua and afterward in Northern Mexico, marching straight toward Texas. It is a large force, cannon and lancers, horse and foot."