8 On the Mexican Flank

Stump awoke first. He was conscious that he had not slept more than three or four hours, but the dawn was coming, and it was time for them to be up and on their way. The horses were grazing at the ends of their lariats, and seemed to have suffered no harm. Ned was asleep, his head on his arm, looking very worn and weary and Stump was sorry for him. But he must awake and go. He shook Ned and the boy sprang up grasping at his rifle.

“It’s all right, Ned,” said Stump. “There’s no enemy. It’s just you an’ me. I was sorry to drag you out of your nice warm bed, with them nice feather pillows under your head an’ them silk covers over you, but it had to be done. You an’ me must be on the go ag’in, ’cause there are ferries lower down an’ the Mexicans may be crossin’ this very minute. I’ve got a knapsack full of good meat an’ bread, an’ we’ll eat as we ride along. You take my blankets for a saddle ag’in, an’ hop on your mustang.”

Ned’s body was somewhat stiff and sore, but the condition soon wore off. It seemed to him that his frame was so much toughened that he could stand anything. He even forgot that his clothes were still wet, and he felt a fair degree of comfort and much courage, as he rode beside Stump. The morning was warm and the rain had stopped, for a while, at least. Under the grateful heat and dryness their muscles regained their elasticity.

Ned looked at Stump and laughed.

“It’s a fine thing to be happy,” said Stump, “but I don’t see nothin’ to be laughin’ at.”

“Of course you don’t, because the joke is in both the literal and material sense.”

“I don’t understan’ them big words, but what do you mean when you say the joke’s on me?”

“It’s on your face. It’s all over you. You remember how Potter told you he laughed at me when he first saw me coming. Said I had the shape of a man, but I looked more like a mud figure. Well, you’re one, too. You’ve had muddy water splashed all over you and it’s hardened there. You’re a clay image, Stump.”

“Then we’re a pair of ’em. I don’t mind since we’re both safe an’ sound. That was a terrible crossin’ last night, Ned. I don’t see how I ever got up the courage to try it with you. I know my hair has turned gray. See if it hasn’t.”

He took off his sombrero, and Ned looked at his head critically.

“It’s more than that, Stump,” he said in a sorrowful tone. “It’s all silver white, what there is of it, an’ what’s worst of all, a lot of it has fallen out. Right on top of your head there’s a perfectly bare spot as large as a saucer.”

“You don’t mean it! That can’t be true!” exclaimed Stump, dashing his hand to his head. “Ned, you skeered me so bad I nearly fell off my hoss.”

“I fancy I scared you more than you were scared at any time last night,” said Ned laughing. “But don’t be unhappy, Stump, you haven’t a bald spot and, as well as I can see, not a single gray hair.”

“I forgive you this time,” said Stump, “but don’t you do it ag’in. Now, Ned, we ought to strike some houses pretty soon. I know of three or four along the higher ground, but most likely their owners have run away. Good cause they’ve had for runnin’, too.”

His prediction was justified. They came to three cabins, but they were all deserted and silent. Then they turned back toward that point in the Brazos bottoms where Houston had been encamped, when Stump left him. But they did not go very far, soon reaching the area of flooded ground. Stump shook his head.

“If Houston is still camped there,” he said, “he an’ his men are standin’ or settin’ in three or four feet of water, an’ as nobody could stan’ that very long they just ain’t there.”

“What shall we do now?” asked Ned.

“Reckon we’d better keep on down the Brazos, an’ watch for the crossin’ of Santa Anna. The news of him is the best thing we can carry to Houston.”

A half mile further and Ned, who was a little in advance, noticed a broad trail in the soft prairie. He called Stump’s attention to it, and the latter announced at once that it had been made by Houston’s force.

“Here go the wheels of the wagons,” he said. “An’ the whole trail leads straight from the edge of the shallow water. Houston has shorely crossed somewhar or other, an’, as I guessed, he’s moved to higher ground for a dry camp.”

Ned felt relief. The fact that it was Houston’s trail meant that no Mexican army was yet across the Brazos.

“Five more miles along the stream an’ we come to the ferry at San Felipe de Austin,” said Stump. “Maybe Houston has gathered his force there to dispute the crossin’. We ain’t got no time to follow his trail, which may wind about every which-a-way, but must make straight for the ferry. I’m thinkin’, too, Ned, after what we saw last night, that we’d better gallop.”

They touched up their horses, and rode as fast as they could toward the ferry at the tiny place that bore the large name of San Felipe de Austin. Stump knew this part of the country thoroughly and he led the way. He explained as they galloped along that the river could not spread out to such width there, and, if the Mexicans had seized the ferry-boats, they could cross with ease. Ned felt a great fear. He knew the celerity and energy of Santa Anna and his anxiety to crush the last of the Texans with the utmost speed.

The wind was blowing toward them, and as they drew near to the ferry Ned heard a faint sound like the distant tapping of a light hammer. He knew that it was made by the firing of rifles or muskets.

“Do you hear?” he said.

Stump nodded.

“Maybe they’re across already and are attacking,” Ned said.

“No, it can’t be that. If Houston an’ his army was there the firin’ would be a long ways bigger. If they ain’t there an’ Santa Anna was across then the Texans would be too few in number to hold their ground an’ would retreat quickly. No, Ned, Santa Anna is still on the other side of the Brazos.”

Stump’s logic seemed sound to Ned, and the truth of it was confirmed by the fact that the fire soon died, merely to be renewed a minute or two later in a feeble and desultory manner. Then they galloped headlong toward a little group of men, and an officer on horseback rode forward to meet them. Stump held up his hand.

“You’re Captain Baker,” he cried, “an’ you know me well. Under this coverin’ of mud I’m Bill Burke, known to most people as Stump, ’cause God changed his mind an’ made my legs shorter than He intended. This boy is Ned Fulton, him that was in the Alamo with Bowie an’ Crockett an’ Travis, an’ all them gran’ men who are gone.”

“Yes, I know you well, Stump,” said Captain Baker, a gallant man, “and I’ve heard much of Ned Fulton from Mr. Austin and General Houston. Coming as you do you must come with news. What is it, Stump?”

“Me an’ Ned saw Santa Anna, old Satan himself, yesterday on the other side of the Brazos, an’ he had with him a big army an’ cannon. He’s after Houston. We crossed the Brazos last night in the storm, an’ we’ve galloped here to tell you. Ned himself has come from the other side of the Colorado to bring the news that a band of Texans has gathered there to help.”

“So he’s at hand!” exclaimed Baker. “Some Mexicans have appeared among the burned houses on the other side of the river, and we’ve been exchanging shots with them, but we did not know whether they were merely a band of scouts. See those scattered ruins across there. That’s San Felipe de Austin, but we burned it to keep it from sheltering the enemy.”

“And that’s Santa Anna himself on the hill just out of rifle shot,” exclaimed Ned. “I know him! Ah! how well I know him! See him there on the horse with the big military glasses to his eyes!”

The Texans circled around him, and their eyes followed Ned’s pointing finger with intense curiosity. Not many of them had seen Santa Anna, but they had a good view of him now. Evidently he had not suffered greatly from the storm, as his uniform was fresh, and gorgeous. He sat upon a powerful white horse, and scanned the Texan band leisurely with his great glasses.

“He looks mighty sassy,” said Stump.

“He regards us as easy prey,” said Baker bitterly, “and perhaps he has cause to do so.”

“Where’s Houston?” asked Ned.

“I don’t know,” replied Baker. “When I left him he was still on the other side of the Brazos.”

“But he must have crossed yesterday or the day before,” exclaimed Ned. “We saw a big trail that couldn’t have been any but his.”

“Maybe he has,” said Baker, still showing great feeling. “He has a little cotton steamer, the Yellowstone, which could take the men across without much trouble. But we wanted him to quit falling back. We had a chance to attack and destroy Sesma’s column, but we didn’t do it. Then I took a hundred and twenty men and came here to guard the ford. He didn’t want us to do it, but we came anyhow. We were right, for there is Santa Anna now, looking at us. Do you know, Fulton, the young officer who has ridden up beside him?”

“That’s Colonel Almonte, a brave man and a kind one. I know, as I was in his hands. He received his military education mostly in the United States and he is probably the best officer that Santa Anna has.”

Baker looked around at his troop, one hundred and twenty lean, weatherbeaten and resolute men.

“There’s not a bad marksman in this command of mine,” he said, “and Santa Anna cannot cross here. He may bring up boats, but they cannot face such riflemen as these.”

Santa Anna sat long on his horse, and the Texans made ready with their rifles and ammunition. Almonte rode away presently, but Santa Anna remained. Baker provided Ned with a saddle and bridle for his mustang. The boy and Stump remained together on the left flank of the Texan force.

“Now, if it wasn’t for that big river between me an’ Santa Anna,” said Stump, “I’d be skeered to death. At the same time I wish it wasn’t just quite so wide, then I could topple him off that horse with a bullet, an’ things would look a lot brighter for the Texans.”

“He’ll take care of himself,” said Ned. “He won’t expose himself unless he has to do it as a last chance. Look, Stump, what they’re bringing up now!”

“A cannon, as shore as thunder!” exclaimed Stump. “I reckon they expect to drive us away with it an’ then launch their boats, crossin’ under cover of the cannon fire.”

“It looks like it,” said Ned.

The cannon was now observed by Baker’s men, and they all drew back from the river. There was no doubt that a cannonade was about to begin, as the Mexican gunners were making ready.

“Ride back a little further, boys, just over the crest of the ridge,” said Baker. “We are not afraid of their cannon.”

There was a flash of fire, a gush of smoke, a roar and a solid shot ploughed up the ground near them.

“Try ag’in!” thundered Stump derisively.

The cannon was reloaded and fired a second time. A shell burst to their right but did no damage. The Texans then galloped forward and sent a volley at a dozen Mexicans who had appeared at the edge of the opposite shore. The range was too great, but a spent bullet reached one of the Mexicans, stung him, and they fell back.

The Texans retreated to their shelter behind the ridge, and the cannon reopened its fire, sending both shot and shell.

The Texans contented themselves with an occasional rifle bullet. Thus time wore on. Santa Anna disappeared from the hill, and did not show himself again. Ned wondered at the long delay. The Mexicans were certainly making no strenuous effort to cross. In fact the crossing, in spite of the cannon, was impossible, and it seemed strange that they should linger there, wasting so much time. It occurred to Ned that they might have some other object in view and he mentioned his suspicion to Stump.

“Does look queer,” said Stump. “Santa Anna, as we know, is the kind that’s always pushin’ on, but here he is fiddlin’ an’ fussin’ with us. He must know that he can’t get across while we’re here. Why, they haven’t even tried to start any boats.”

“And we don’t see Santa Anna now, nor do we see Almonte,” said Ned, “and the whole Mexican force looks smaller than it did a while ago. Stump, is there any other ferry near here?”

“There’s one at Fort Bend, lower down, but all the boats there have been brought to this side of the river.”

“Then, Stump, as sure as you and I are here, Santa Anna and Almonte have gone there to cross. While they have been popping at us with that cannon they have set about the real work elsewhere.”

“Ned, I believe you’re right! You’ve hit it! While the side show has been goin’ on here, the main circus is down the river at the Fort Bend ferry. Old Santa Anna is all that they say he is. He’s tricked us.”

They told their suspicions to Captain Baker. He, too, was alarmed, but he was not willing to leave the ferry, which he had undertaken to defend.

“I hope you may be wrong. You must be wrong,” he said, “but if I left this place they would come across here, and so I have to stay.”

“Then me an’ Ned are goin’ to ride down there an’ see,” said Stump. “I’m a timid man, Captain Baker, an’ I’ve got a fear in my heart that they’re workin’ a trick on us.”

“Go and luck be with you,” said Baker.

Ned and Stump galloped away. As they were compelled to make so many circuits avoiding morasses and flood water it was a long road. But the further they went the more certain Ned was that they were right. Santa Anna and Almonte would neglect no device. The younger Urrea also might be present with his band and he was full of craft and resource. The two were silent for a long time and when the boy spoke at last he said to his comrade:

“Stump, we’re surely going to find that we’ve been outwitted. But if they are across we can go back in time to warn Baker and his men.”

When they drew near the second ford Ned uttered an exclamation and he and Stump instantly galloped into the cover of some trees. He had seen the blades of lances shining on their side of the river, and they knew at once that their worst fears were justified. The Mexicans were across. As they stood there, they counted numerous cavalry and artillery, with cannon already gathered on the bank, and Ned thought he saw the figure of Urrea.

He learned afterward that Santa Anna’s easy crossing there had been due to Almonte. The boats had been withdrawn to what was for the moment the Texan shore, and had been left in charge of a negro. The young Colonel had appeared and hailed him in excellent English, insisting that he was a Texan officer, who would be captured if he could not cross, and the negro went back for him. Of course other Mexicans appeared, and seized the boat the moment he touched the bank. After that, Santa Anna brought his army across without difficulty,

“What do you think we’d better do, Stump?” asked Ned. “Go back and warn Captain Baker?”

“I don’t think so,” replied Stump. “Baker will take care of himself. You can’t surprise a lot of Texans on horses. Besides, Ned, I don’t think Santa Anna will bother about Baker an’ his men. It’s far more likely that he will push on after Houston or our government. The President, I think, is at Harrisburg. Wouldn’t Santa Anna like to seize Mr. Burnet and then swoop down an’ destroy Houston?”

“If he did that our last hope would be gone,” said Ned, “and I think, Stump, that you and I had better stay here and watch Santa Anna.”

“It makes me shiver to think of the danger we’ll run,” said Stump, “but it was just what I was goin’ to propose. Anyway, as the day is growin’ late, an’ the march through the Brazos bottoms is somethin’ terrible, I don’t think he’ll start till to-morrow.”

Ned did not feel that they were in any great danger of being captured. The nature of the country, made a morass by the incessant rains, would keep the Mexicans close to their camp. Even Urrea and his horsemen could do but little scouting in that vast area of swamp.

He and Stump found a fairly firm spot, where they tethered their horses and watched the growing light of the fires that Santa Anna’s army was building. Stump spoke with bitterness.

“Everythin’ goes ag’inst us,” he said. “We took San Antonio an’ we crowed too much. Now Santa Anna sweeps everythin’ before him, an’ it seems that about all you an’ me can do, Ned, is to stand ’roun’ in mud an’ water an’ watch his triumphal progress.”

“Our time will come,” said Ned earnestly. “I feel sure that it will come. You forget Houston and all the brave men who are yet alive.”

“I hope you are a good prophet,” said Stump somewhat despondently. “All the same, here are you an’ me in the mud, an’ over there are the Mexicans by their fires, warm and dry.”

“I’m going over to join them,” said Ned.

“What?”

“Not to stay, either by choice or force. Don’t think that. You know, Stump, I speak Spanish and different kinds of Mexican-Spanish. I’m burnt almost as dark as an Indian by months of life wholly in the open, and I can pass for a Mexican. I’m going over there to talk to some of those fellows.”

“For the Lord’s sake, don’t think of such a thing!” exclaimed Stump. “They’ll nab you, shore, Ned, an’ in just about ten minutes Santa Anna would have you shot.”

“I can risk it,” said Ned, “because I want to find out just what they are going to do. Besides, it isn’t as dangerous as you think it is. Mexican armies are always disorderly, with crowds of men loafing about the fringe of them. You stay here, and I’ll be back safe and sound inside of an hour.”

“Don’t do it, Ned,” pleaded Stump. “Think how terrible lonely an’ skeered I’ll be here by myself. An’ then if you’d never come back!”

Ned smiled at Stump’s reference to his loneliness. His mind was quite made up.

“I know that you’re not the least bit afraid on your own account,” he said, “and you need not be on mine. Even if they should suspect me I could dodge away in the morass, and escape them in a minute.”

“I’ll go, too.”

“No, you could never pass for an instant. There’s nobody in all Mexico who looks like you.”

“That’s so,” said Stump, with a sigh. “Besides, my Mexican won’t bear close inspection.”

Ned waited a little, until the night deepened, and then he walked away among the trees. He had decided already upon his manner of approach. The fires would have to be fed continually with fresh wood, and he would appear as one accomplishing that task. He pulled up an armful of fallen wood, walked boldly forward, and cast it upon the largest fire. Then he dropped back in the dusk, and ranged about as if hunting for more.

This process soon brought him into contact with real Mexicans, and he exchanged words with them, at first in an inconsequential fashion, but soon drifted toward the object of their march.

“We start early to-morrow toward the place that these Texan rebels call their capital, for the moment,” said a dark Mexican from Oaxaca. “Then we turn and destroy the greatest of the rebels, the one named Houston. And I say to you, amigo, I shall be glad when it is all over. The illustrious Santa Anna who leads us, and who is with us, is terrible in the battle, and he is likewise terrible on the march. My poor feet have trodden thousands of miles of hard ground in Mexico and soft ground in Texas. And it is always raining. When I put my head on the ground to sleep the rain falls in my face, and when I awake it is still falling. We cross great rivers and we wade vast marshes and morasses. I shall be glad when the wicked Texans are all dead, and we can return to our own Mexico where the sun is warm and shines so much. From what region dost thou come, amigo?”

“Vera Cruz, about ten miles back of the city,” replied Ned readily, remembering that he could describe from his own knowledge the surroundings of that place, “and I shall rejoice like you when I can return. Are we close upon the heels of these flying Texans?”

“It is said that we’re but a day’s march behind,” replied the Oaxacan. “I hear that the general is to start very early in the morning, and to take a picked force with only one cannon. He intends to travel fast so that no matter how light the heels of the Texans may be, they cannot escape. It will be a great sight when the rebel leaders are brought in with the halters around their necks.”

“A great sight, truly,” echoed Ned, although he shuddered as he said it.

The two then walked forward together, and threw more wood upon the fires which cast a ruddy light as they crackled and leaped. Ned, under his apparently careless manner, observed everything about him. He saw a great white tent a little to his left, and he knew that it had been erected for Santa Anna. Officers entered and others passed out as he looked. He saw the brilliant young Almonte, and he turned his head aside, lest those keen eyes should notice something un-Mexican in his appearance. Then he saw Francisco Urrea, Urrea older and more cruel than ever. Urrea passed within ten feet of him but took no notice.

Now Ned went back to the forest in search of more wood, and as he continued his search he gradually drifted away from the Mexican camp, and back toward the place at which he had left Stump. He hailed him in a loud whisper through the bushes.

“Stump! Stump!” he said. “It is I, Ned Fulton! I have gone into the Mexican camp, as I said I would, and I have come back safe!”

“You’re more than welcome,” said Stump, stepping into the light. “You’ve been gone over two hours, an’ I thought, every minute, I’d hear the Mexicans yellin’ triumph over your capture. Did you learn anythin’, Ned, that was worth the risk?”

“I learned a lot,” replied Ned. “It was fully worth the risk. For the sake of speed they’re going to split up in the morning, and Santa Anna, taking the picked men and one cannon, is going to hurry forward on Harrisburg. They think our wandering government is there, and they feel sure of capturing it.”

“I’m thinkin’ that the President an’ all his cabinet are there,” said Stump, “an’ if you hadn’t done this thing they might have been s’prised an’ taken. You shorely have sing’lar ideas, Ned, an’ they ’pear to work out right, just when they’re needed most. Now I guess we’ve got another night of hard ridin’ before us. Seems to me that I’ve just growed to my horse.”

“Lucky we are to have horses to grow to,” said Ned, as he sprang upon the back of his faithful mustang.

“You let me lead the way,” said Stump; “not that I’m more fit than you are, or that I’m intended to be a leader, but I know this country, an’ we’ve got to be mighty keerful until we reach higher ground.”

The way was exceedingly difficult, almost wholly mire for a long distance, but fortunately they were spared another night of rain. There were clouds, it is true, but they saw the moon and some of the stars all the time. Stump therefore was able to lead, with a fair degree of certainty, through the vast marsh, although they were compelled at times to let the horses rest.

Finally they drew out upon the firm prairie, and Ned saw it in the moonlight, the green touched with silver rolling away, until it sank out of sight in the darkness. He and Stump heaved mighty sighs of relief, and dismounted.

“We’ll give our animals a long breathing spell here,” said Stump, “an’ then we won’t stop till we get to Harrisburg. I wonder what old Santa Anna would have said if he had noticed you there, helping to feed his fires for him.”

“He probably would have said, ‘Seize him at once; cut him down!’ and then the slash of a sword or the thrust of a lance would have been the end of me. The name of a great merchant, John Roylston, protected me once when I was in the hands of Santa Anna, but I doubt whether it would do so now.”

“I doubt it, too. I doubt whether any Texan fallin’ in his hands would live. So we jest won’t fall into ’em.”

Their stop lasted nearly an hour, as they wished their horses to recover their full strength. Then they mounted and rode swiftly toward Harrisburg. Ned’s destiny was ever taking him northward. Santa Anna was breaking down every line of defense in turn, but the boy shared the dauntless spirit of the men with whom he rode and fought.

“When can we reach Harrisburg?” he asked.

“Before night anyway,” replied Stump.

“You’re sure that the members of our government are there?”

“They were three days ago, anyway, an’ there was no talk of their leavin’. They hadn’t heard of the advance of Santa Anna an’ maybe nobody but you an’ me, Ned, yet knows he is across the Brazos. We’ll give President Burnet an’ the others news that is news.”

They rode swiftly but mostly in silence, each realizing to the full the tremendous importance of that for which he rode. They overtook several fugitive wagons, bearing Texans and their families, fleeing northward before the ruthless Mexican advance. Ned and Stump gave no words of consolation to them, but bade them hasten their flight.

“Santa Anna an’ his whole army are across the Brazos,” said Stump to one of them, “an’ nothin’ can stop him. But you bend a little to the west, ’cause Santa Anna is headed for Harrisburg.”

The man asked no questions but took Stump’s advice at once. His wagon was drawn by powerful mules, and he turned them from a northerly to a northwesterly direction. In a few minutes he was out of sight beyond the swells of the prairie.

“That man has a heap of sense,” said Stump approvingly. “How I wish I was with him in that wagon, fleein’ off to peaceful scenes, ’stead of goin’ to Harrisburg right in the thick of danger.”

“You’re the king of prevaricators, Stump. You couldn’t be kept from going to Harrisburg.”

“I don’t know what a prevaricator is, but I do know that I’m terrible skeered. I guess it’s your company, Ned, that keeps me from runnin’ away from our task.”

True to their original intention, they made no stop on their way to Harrisburg. Their horses, trained to long distances, and not pushed unduly, went on without a weakening stride. Now and then they crossed swollen brooks, and once or twice they were compelled to ride around lagoons made by the heavy rains. But the sun forced itself at intervals through the clouds, and then the earth looked very beautiful. There was a delicate shade over the green grass, and, wherever they had a chance, the early flowers had thrust into bloom. The timber, which was often heavy, was shrouded in great masses of dark green foliage. It occurred to Ned, in their flight, that it was a country worth fighting for.

They topped a long swell, and Stump pointed straight before them. Ned saw two or three thin columns of smoke rising.

“Follow them lines of smoke down to the places they start from, an’ you’ll find Harrisburg,” said Stump. “In another half hour we’ll be there an’ between you an’ me, Ned, we won’t arrive a minute too soon.”

Well inside the half hour, and covered with mud, they galloped into the little town. Their horses’ hoofs splashed the mire in the unpaved streets, and they made straight for the largest house in the place.

“The President, is he here?” exclaimed Ned to a man who stood before the open door of a log cabin.

The man pointed at the house toward which they were riding.

“What is the”—he was asking, but Ned and Stump were out of hearing, and a moment later drew rein before the large house. They sprang from their horses, ran to the front door which was closed, and Ned beat upon it. An armed Texan threw it open and exclaimed:

“Who are you, and what do you want?”

“My name is Ned Fulton, and the man with me is William Burke, generally called Stump. You must know him! Everybody in Texas knows him!”

“I know him, and I have heard of yon, too, Fulton,” said a grave voice. “Come in and tell us the news that you have ridden so hard to bring us.”

He who spoke was a handsome man, dressed neatly, none other than David G. Burnet, the first president of the new Texan republic. Behind him were Hardiman, Carson, and other members of his cabinet. They had been sitting at a table examining papers and talking, when Ned and Stump made their violent intrusion. Every one of them knew instinctively that the two had ridden far and hard—they bore all the signs of it—and the message they brought, whatever its nature, must be important.

Stump stopped. His inborn respect for education made him wait for Ned to speak.

“Perhaps you have news about Santa Anna?” said Burnet in the same calm, grave tone.

“We have,” said Ned. “He is on this side of the Brazos with his army and artillery.”

Burnet paled a little, and a murmur arose from the others.

“How do you know this?” asked the President.

“Mr. Burke and I saw the Mexicans apparently trying to cross at San Felipe, but the ferry there was held by Captain Baker and his men. We suspected that it was a feint, and rode to the other ferry at Fort Bend, only to find that Santa Anna and his army were already across at that point. They camped for the night in the bottoms of the Brazos, and, as I can speak Spanish, I passed for a Mexican, and talked with some of their men. I learned their plan. Even now Santa Anna with his picked troops and one cannon is pushing as hard as he can for this place, in order to capture you, Mr. President, and your cabinet.”

“And Houston is not here to defend the Texan government,” said a man bitterly. “He is continually retreating before the enemy. He does not trust our Texans.”

“Patience,” said Burnet soothingly. “We may disagree about the actions of General Houston, but he is a soldier and he may be right. Doubtless it is unwise for him to meet Santa Anna until his army is larger. Remember, gentlemen, how much depends upon the battle whenever it is fought. If Houston is beaten, the last hope of Texas is gone.”

But some of the men still murmured. Houston in those terrible days was much criticized, because he continually retreated before Santa Anna. The valiant but impatient Texans wished to meet the dictator at once in a final combat.

“What time do you think Santa Anna can reach Harrisburg?” asked Burnet.

“Not before night, in any event,” replied Ned. “He has to force his way with his cannon and horses through the Brazos bottoms and the mud is very deep there. The prairie too, is soft.”

“Then it will give us time for another flight,” said Burnet sadly. “Gentlemen, I suggest that we retreat now to Galveston Island. Santa Anna cannot reach us there easily. The water will defend us, for a time at least. Mr. Fulton and Mr. Burke, on behalf of the people and the government I thank you. It is likely that we should have been surprised here without your warning. Go into the next room and I will see that you have food and fresh clothing.”

Ned and Stump obeyed willingly. Good food was brought to them and they discarded their muddy garments for clean ones. They also stretched their limbs and felt the soothing influence of rest. But they heard, too, the bustle of hurried preparation for flight. Many of the people were gone already, but they saw through the window large wagons drawn up to receive women and children and household goods. The President was harnessing a horse to a wagon, with his own hands, and nearly all the members of his cabinet were engaged in a similar task. It was very crude, very homely, and few would have suspected the beginnings of a great state in these small and dangerous surroundings.

Ned had eaten enough, and he stood at the window gazing with a melancholy interest at the work that was going on before him. He was reminded of the hop-skip-and-jump of his childhood. That was the way now the Texans seemed always to be going. They scarcely tarried long enough in one place to draw a good breath. Even as he looked several wagons, loaded to the last pound, rolled away. Then President Burnet opened the door and said to them:

“I am about to depart. If you wish to go with me I shall be glad to have you come along.’”

Stump glanced at Ned and the boy replied:

“We thank you, Mr. President, but we want to remain here a while longer. We have good horses. My friend, Mr. Burke knows the country, and we can escape with ease. We will follow to-night, but it is our intention, sir, to join Houston later.”

“You could do no better,” said Burnet. “I pray that all our Texans will rally around him. Meanwhile we owe you great thanks. If the opportunity comes to me, and we save this Texas of ours you shall be rewarded.”

Then he was gone. His wagons and those of his cabinet disappeared down the muddy road, carrying with them records of the new government and heavy hearts. Other wagons soon followed them, and the little town was left lonely and desolate. Ned and Stump left the house, and went down to the edge of the yard that surrounded it, where their horses were tethered to posts.

Twilight was coming now, and the abandoned town was in deep stillness. They thought they were alone, but Ned presently saw a ray of light from a window. He knew that it was made by a candle burning inside, but as all the other people had gone away in the day it was obvious that it had been lighted by some one who was taking no part in the flight.

Ned’s curiosity was greatly aroused. He walked toward the low frame building and he saw painted over the doorway the sign: “The Harrisburg Telegraph.” Other words added that it was the greatest newspaper in Texas and the southwest. Ned called to Stump and the two, pushing open the door, entered.

They found themselves in a large room, the counterpart of many weekly newspaper offices in the more isolated regions of the United States. In one corner stood a small hand press. The floor was littered with old newspapers, “exchanges,” which had come mostly by water and land from New Orleans. On a desk was a pot of paste, a large pair of scissors and some clippings. There was a chair at the desk but it was vacant. Some of the windows had been broken and greased paper had been pasted over the holes. In the corner of the room, opposite the press, stood several printers’ cases and over three of the cases bent men, hard at work, setting type. Over each case burned a candle, and the printers did not look up, as Ned and Stump entered.

It was a startling and incongruous scene. It seemed that for all they knew or cared Santa Anna and his men might be a thousand miles away.

Ned walked across the floor and tapped the oldest of the printers on the shoulder. The man looked up.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Don’t you know that Santa Anna and the Mexicans are expected at any moment, and that all except you three are gone?”

“You and your friend have not gone.”

“No, but we are scouts and we have good horses at hand. We can escape easily.”

“I do not know that Santa Anna is coming,” said the man. “We have heard before that he was coming, but he did not come. We have type to set that will take us until midnight. It was given to us by the President himself and it must be done. Who has seen Santa Anna?”

“My friend here and I both saw him,” said Ned, with great emphasis. “We saw him and his army this side of the Brazos, marching straight upon this town. You must go at once. Why, the President, himself, who gave you that manuscript to set, has gone. I repeat to you that, saving ourselves, you are alone in this town and Santa Anna is at hand.”

“It’s in my mind to finish this job,” the man said to the others. “Do you want to stay with me?”

The two nodded and went on setting type. The older printer resumed his task also and paid no further attention to his visitors. Ned urged them again to go, but the only answer they got was from the same man, who said:

“You mean well, and we thank you, but we intend to stay and finish the job. You can make yourselves at home here, if you want to do so, as the editor and proprietor have run away. You’ll find New Orleans papers not more than two weeks old, and some from St. Louis not over three weeks.”

“I’ll take some from New Orleans, if you don’t mind,” said Ned, gathering up a half dozen and sticking them inside his jacket, “but while we thank you for your hospitality we can’t stay. Won’t you listen to one last word of caution?”

The man shook his head and Ned and Stump went out.

►   ▲