"This looks like a fight, father," observed Dan, as his parent joined
him on the bank of the stream, where Dan had gone, following Captain
Martin.

"It certainly looks like trouble," answered Mr. Radbury, as he gazed at
the Mexican dragoons with anxiety. "That cannon may be responsible for
a whole lot of bloodshed."

"Well, they haven't any right to disarm us," returned the youth,
determinedly. "You'll fight first, won't you?"

"Perhaps I will; it will depend upon circumstances," was the
non-committal reply. Amos Radbury was no "fire-eater," and, like
Austin, preferred a settlement without a passage at arms.

At the ford the Mexican commander had ridden into the water to consult
with the leader of the Texans.

"I am sent here to obtain the cannon you are holding," he said. "There
is my order," and he held it out.

"We don't dispute the order, captain," was the reply. "But we consider
it unjust to ask us to give up a piece that we may need against the
Indians."

"If you will give up the cannon you will be protected."

"We haven't been protected for a long while. We have had to protect
ourselves."

"You are thinking of using that cannon against the government," was the
angry remark of the Mexican commander.

"We are not thinking of doing so,--but it may be we will be forced to
do so," was the significant reply.

"I am coming over, and I demand the cannon," went on the Mexican
leader, pompously.

"If you dare to come over, it will be at the peril of your life," was
the calm return.

The Mexican commander continued to bluster and threaten, but all to no
purpose, and at length he withdrew his force from the ford, and went
into temporary camp in a valley opposite to Gonzales.

It was now night, and the town was at a white heat. Meetings were held
in half a dozen places, and while some counselled delay others were for
forcing the fighting. In the end, however, it was decided to wait, and
in the meantime pickets were sent out to watch the Mexicans so that
they might not enter Gonzales by stealth.

"I wonder if they will come over to-night," said Dan, as he and his
father picked their way along the river to where forty or fifty
horsemen who owned ranches in the vicinity had pitched their
headquarters, the taverns in the town being already overcrowded.

"I doubt it, Dan. We have fully as many men, if not more, and a Mexican
soldier never loves to fight in the dark."

"Perhaps the Mexican captain has sent back for reinforcements."

"That may be. Well, all we can do is to watch and be on guard."

By this it will be seen that Mr. Radbury was as anxious as any one to
keep the cannon. He had refused to give up any of his firearms, and had
buried two of his pistols under the floor of the cabin home.

The night wore away without any alarm sounding, and the next day the
Mexican commander sent another demand for the cannon, and on the day
following he asked that a time be set for a general conference
regarding the now precious bit of property.

The conference was refused, and instead he was asked to vacate his
position so close to Gonzales. This he would not do, and all of the
settlers now agreed that he was awaiting reinforcements from Bexar.

"He will wait for Colonel Ugartchea to come up with the balance of the
command, and then wipe us out altogether," said one.

"Or perhaps he is waiting for Cos to come up," said another. It was
known that the Mexican general, Cos, was on the march for San Antonio
de Bexar with six hundred additional troops for the garrison of that
city.

The morning of the first of October came foggy and disagreeable. But
little could be seen beyond the river bank, and it was not known if the
Mexican command was advancing, retreating, or standing still. Again the
leaders of the Texans met, and it was unanimously decided not to delay
action longer, but if the Mexicans were still on the opposite side of
the stream to compel them to move away before their force could be
increased. Volunteers were called for to cross the river with the brass
cannon and begin an attack, and a hundred and sixty Texans rode to the
front for that purpose. Mr. Radbury was too loyal-hearted a man to hang
back, and as Dan begged very hard to go too, he was permitted to join
half a dozen young men who brought up the rear.




CHAPTER XI.

THE OPENING OF THE WAR.


To get so many men across the river by boat would have taxed the
resources of Gonzales to the utmost, so the majority of the Texans went
around by way of the ford, only a few going over in the ferry with the
four-pounder.

The trip was made during the night of October first, and every man was
cautioned to be as silent as possible.

"We'll give them a surprise," said Dan to one of the young men, a
_ranchero_ named Henry Parker. He had known Henry Parker for over
a year, and the two were warm friends.

"Or get a surprise," was the answer. "They may be watching us just as
hard as we are watching them."

"Pooh! I am not afraid of a greaser!"

"Neither am I. But it will pay to be careful."

They had passed the ford, and now in the utter darkness the little band
made its way through the brush toward the spot where the Mexican
command had been in camp before the fog settled down.

Coming closer, the Texans were spread out in a sort of skirmish line,
with the four-pounder in the centre. Dan and his friend were on the
extreme right, down by the water's edge.

Here there was more than one little inlet to cross, and while Dan's
horse was picking his steps the youth fancied he detected a sudden
movement among the bushes overhanging the water's edge.

[Illustration: "'HOLD ON!' HE CRIED TO HENRY PARKER. 'SOMETHING IS IN
THAT BUSH!'"]

"Hold on," he cried to Henry Parker. "Something is in that bush."

"Man or beast?" whispered Henry, and placed his hand to the trigger of
his gun.

"I can't say. Wait till I investigate."

Leaving his mustang in his friend's care, Dan leaped to the ground and
ran close to the bushes. As he did this, he stumbled into a hole and
fell. He picked himself up, and while doing so heard a splash and saw
some dark object disappear beneath the river's surface.

"Come here! Something is up!" he called to Henry, and at once his
friend complied, and both ran down to the water's edge and strained
their eyes to pierce the gloom and the fog.

"What did you see?"

"Something slipped into the water, and I am half of the opinion it was
a man."

"Then it must have been a Mexican!"

"To be sure. Stay here and watch, and I'll go down the stream a bit. He
ought to come up soon."

Dan had hardly spoken when he espied a head coming up but thirty or
forty feet away. It was the head of a Mexican soldier, evidently a spy.

"Halt there!" cried Dan. "Come back here, or I'll fire!"

It is doubtful if he would have fired on the swimmer, having no desire
to open the war in person, but his threat had considerable effect.

"No shoota me!" cried the Mexican. "No shoota!" And then he continued
to talk in Spanish, which Dan and his friend understood, but
imperfectly.

"I want you to come back here," went on the youth, and he pointed his
gun.

At this the Mexican dove out of sight, not to come up for a distance of
a rod or more.

"Shoot him--you have the right," urged Henry. "Or else I'll do it."

"Don't, Henry, it might be murder. Besides, we were ordered not to
discharge any firearms until we received orders. A shot down here would
alarm the whole Mexican camp."

"But we don't want that rascal to escape, Dan."

"I have it." Dan looked around and soon found several fair-sized
stones. "Come back at once!" he ordered, and, taking aim, he let drive
with one of the stones.

Dan had always been good at that sort of thing, and the stone landed,
as intended, on the Mexican's back. He let out a howl of pain, so loud
that several Texans at once rode up to the vicinity to learn what was
the matter.

"Yes, he's got to come ashore," declared one of the men. "He may be a
spy who has been over to Gonzales, and carries some kind of a message."
He raised his voice in Spanish. "Come ashore, or we'll shoot you; do
you hear?"

_"Si, capitan_" ("Yes, captain"), was the answer, and without further
ado the Mexican turned and came back to the river bank. As he crawled
out, wet and muddy, he looked the picture of despair.

"It's Pietro the gambler, from Bastrop," said one of the Texans, after
a close scrutiny. "I'll wager he was going to give us away to the
greasers in camp."

"No, no, me watch fight, dat's all, seГ±or," said the Mexican, who was
noted not only for his skill at cards but also for his skill at
cheating. "Pietro fight for Texans when fight 't all."

"That don't go down, you card-sharp!" cried another of the men. "I know
him well, and he would cheat his own grandmother if he could. Let us
make him a prisoner, at least until this business we are on is over."

So it was agreed, and despite the gamblers' protests he was bound hands
and feet and tied up to a near-by tree. Had he not been captured, the
fight so close at hand would probably not have come off.

On went the Texans, until a point was gained overlooking the camping
spot of the Mexicans. The advance guard reported that Captain Castinado
was still at the place with his dragoons.

"Then we'll wait until daybreak and open up on them," said the Texans,
and went into temporary camp. It is doubtful if any of the number
closed his eyes for the balance of that never-to-be-forgotten night. To
them this contest was to be like that of Concord and Lexington to the
patriots of 1775,--it was to mark the dawn of Texan liberty.

The Mexicans had located at a spot called DeWitt's mound; while the
Texans occupied a position farther down the valley and close to the
river. As soon as it began to grow light, the four-pounder was placed
in position, and the rough but rugged little army was drawn up in
battle array. Only here and there was there a man in uniform, and the
weapons were of all sorts and sizes. Leaders and privates had come
over, some on horseback, some on ponies, and others on foot.

"Give it to them!" came the sharp order, when it was light enough to
locate the Mexicans with certainty, and the brass four-pounder belched
forth its contents, and the battle was opened at last.

"Forward!" was the cry down the line, and away swept the Texans, in two
long lines, Mr. Radbury well to the front, and Dan not very far behind.

The Mexicans had been taken completely by surprise and for the moment
knew not what to do. But they quickly organised and returned the fire,
and then the Texans swept closer, and the constant crack, crack, of the
musketry could be heard upon every side.

"Gracious, this is war, sure!" cried Dan, as he discharged his gun and
proceeded to reload with all speed, while still riding forward. "It
looks as if we were going to have a hand-to-hand encounter."

"Forward, for the liberty of Texas!" shouted one of the leaders, and a
score of voices took up the cry. "For the liberty of Texas! For the
liberty of Texas!" It was a battle-cry fit to inspire any body of men.

The Mexicans could not withstand such an onslaught, and, having fired
several rounds, they broke and began to retreat before the Texans could
get within two hundred yards of them. Away they went for the road
leading to San Antonio, the Texans following them for some distance and
then giving up the chase.

The first fight for Texan independence had been fought and won, and a
mighty cheer went up, which was several times repeated. It was found
that four of the Mexicans had been killed and several wounded, while
the Texans had suffered little or nothing.

"Father, we have gained the day!" exclaimed Dan, as he rode up to his
parent. Somehow, he had never felt so proud before in his life.

"Yes, we have gained the day," answered Mr. Radbury. "The question is,
what next? You may be sure the government will not let this go by
unnoticed."

"The government! What government?" put in one old settler. "I
acknowledge no government but that of the independent State of Texas!"
And a cheer went up.

"Let us hope it will be so, neighbour Johnson," went on Mr. Radbury.
"But what if Santa Anna send out a large army to crush us?"

"He can't do it!" came from a dozen voices. "Let him come, and we'll
show him what real American blood and backbone can do."

"We must organise, and without further delay," said one of the leaders.
"We must have a regularly formed Texan army inside of thirty days, or
else we'll have to pay the piper, and that means with Santa Anna that
we'll either get a dose of lead or else dance on nothing," meaning they
would all be shot or hung. This may seem an extravagant statement, but
in view of what followed it was far from being so.




CHAPTER XII.

THE MARCH ON SAN ANTONIO.


The Mexicans had been routed, and for over a week matters went along
quietly in the vicinity of Gonzales; that is, there was no further
fighting. Meetings there were without number, and young and old began
to drill and to talk of nothing but military matters.

"Will you join the army, father?" asked Dan, when, two days after the
fight, he and his parent returned to the ranch home.

"I do not see how I can avoid it," answered Mr. Radbury. "Many of the
neighbours are going, and it might appear cowardly to hang back.
Besides, I must say that, after long thought, I have come to the
conclusion that there is nothing for us to do but to fight for our
rights."

"Hurrah! I knew you would say that," cried Dan. "We must be free by all
means, and then perhaps some day we'll become joined to the United
States."

"That is for after consideration," smiled Mr. Radbury, but the thought
had often crossed his own mind.

Ralph and the negro were anxious to hear the particulars of what had
occurred, and the boy listened to his brother's tale in open-mouthed
amazement.

"A real battle! Oh, Dan, how I wish I had been there!"

"Well, to tell the truth, it was rather one-sided. The Mexicans did not
stand up in front of us long."

"And what are they going to do next?"

"Nobody knows. But there will be war, beyond a doubt."

"Oh, yes, I suppose General Santa Anna will be as mad as a hornet when
he hears of the affair. And all over an old brass cannon, too!" And
Ralph gave a laugh.

Matters were going along smoothly at the ranch, for Pompey was a
faithful worker and had dropped into the routine without an effort. Mr.
Radbury was glad that he had come, for he felt that he wanted a man
around, in case the coming war carried him a distance from home.

As intimated, the fight at Gonzales became the talk of all Texas, and,
the day after the contest, the committee organised at San Felipe issued
a statement and called upon each man in Texas to decide for himself
whether or not he would submit to the destruction of his rights and
liberties by the central government of Mexico, and stating that the war
had begun.

While meetings were going on in a dozen places or more, and
frontiersmen and settlers were hurrying to the scene of action, a force
of about forty men, under the leadership of Captain Collingsworth,
gathered for the purpose of capturing Goliad, a small town on the lower
San Antonio River. The river was gained on the night of October 9th,
and while scouts were out reconnoitring, the brave little band was
joined by Colonel Ben Milam, an old Texan _empresario_, who had been
confined for political reasons in the jail at Monterey. Of this gallant
man we will hear more later.

Finding the coast clear, the band entered the town, and silently made
their way to the quarters of Lieutenant-Colonel Sandoval, the
commandant. They were less than a hundred feet from the garrison when a
sentry discovered them and gave the alarm. The sentry was shot down on
the spot, and then the door was splintered to kindling-wood with axes,
and the Texans poured into the building, and the commandant was made a
prisoner. There was great surprise for several minutes, but the Mexican
soldiers had been taken off their guard, and could offer little
resistance. Twenty-five were captured, and the rest escaped in the
darkness. By this quick movement the Texans gained a quantity of
valuable army stores, horses, three pieces of artillery, and five
hundred guns and pistols.

As Gonzales had been the starting-point of the war, it now became the
general centre for the gathering Texan army, and by the middle of
October there were gathered there between three and four hundred men
who were willing and anxious to serve their country. By common consent
Austin was appointed chief in command, with the title of general. The
volunteers, as they were called, were formed into a regiment, with John
H. Moore as colonel. Old Colonel Milam, who had just arrived from
Goliad, was made chief of a band of scouts,--men who did valiant
service from the beginning to the end of the war.

It was to this regiment that Mr. Radbury became attached, and Dan and
Ralph rode down to Gonzales to see their parent join. As Mr. Radbury
was a veteran of the war of 1812, he was given the position of a
lieutenant. Drilling went on constantly, and the little regiment was
gotten into the best condition that the means at hand afforded. In the
meantime other volunteers poured in daily.

At first the Texans had thought to act only on the defensive, but, as
the days slipped by, the war spirit grew on the settlers, and they said
they wanted the thing "over and done with," that they might return to
their homes and prepare for the winter. It was then decided to march
toward San Antonio, to see if the Mexicans would come out of the
stronghold to do them battle.

"Good-bye, boys," said Mr. Radbury, when the order was passed around to
prepare for the march. "It may be some time before I see you again."

"I wish I could go," answered Dan, pleadingly.

"Your time may come, Dan. But for the present I think we have enough
men for this expedition. I think you and Ralph will have enough to do
around the ranch, with me absent."

"But if I hear you are in trouble, father, I shall come on at once,"
went on Dan, and from this decision his parent could not dissuade him.

The troops were soon on the way, Dan and Ralph riding several miles
with their parent. Then, at the top of the hill, they separated. But
the boys remained on the hill until the soldiers were lost to sight in
the distance on the dusty plain below.

"Good-bye, and may success go with them!" cried Ralph, half sadly. "I
do hope father comes back safe and sound."

"If he doesn't, I shall take his place in the ranks," replied Dan,
quickly. "But come, we must be getting home now, or Pompey will be
anxious about us."

"Here comes a horseman, riding like the wind," came from the younger
Radbury, a moment later. "I declare, it's Poke Stover!"

"Hullo, boys!" cried the old frontiersman, as he came up. "What are ye
a-doin' here?"

"We just saw the troops off for San Antonio," answered Dan.

"Gone this way?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"An hour ago. See that black line over yonder? That's our army."

"Whoopee! I was afraid I'd be too late. Good-bye. We are bound to bring
them greasers to terms this trip!" And, with a wave of his sombrero,
Poke Stover rode off as rapidly as he had come.

"He'll be a whole company in himself," was Ralph's comment. "He doesn't
think any more of a Mexican soldier than he does of a fly, to bother
him."

They were soon on the way to Gonzales, where they loaded their ponies
with stores for the ranch. This accomplished, they set on up the river,
hoping to reach the ranch home by night.

In those days the banks of the Guadalupe River were altogether
different from to-day. Where numerous settlements now exist were then
immense belts of timber, with here and there a burn, or a stretch of
thorns and entangling vines. In some spots the banks were steep and
rocky as to-day, and these rocks were the homes of numerous wild
animals, including the fierce Texan wolf, the puma, the jaguar, the
wildcat, and the black bear. The stream was full of fish, the best of
which was the black bass, which, I believe, still holds its own in many
Texan waters.

As the boys passed along the narrow wagon trail, which their father and
other pioneers had blazed for themselves, they kept their eyes on the
alert for any wild beasts that might appear, having no desire to let a
fierce and hungry wolf pounce down suddenly upon themselves or their
steeds, or a black bear stalk out to embrace them. Their packs lay
behind them, and they held their guns on the saddle in front.

They were thus passing through the largest of the timber belts when the
howl of a wolf reached their ears. It was immediately answered by a
similar howl from another wolf. Both came from directly in front.

"Hullo! a wolf--two wolves!" cried Ralph, as he brought his pony to a
halt. "I don't like that much."

"Is your gun all right?" came quickly from his brother.

"Yes."

The two lads remained motionless in the saddle for several minutes,
listening. No other howl reached their ears, and the only sounds were
that of the rushing stream as it tumbled over some rocks, and the cries
of the night birds and the humming of the insects.

"Let us set up a yell," suggested Dan. "That may scare them off."

They called out at the top of their lungs several times. One distant
howl answered them, then all became as silent as before.

"We may as well go on," said the older brother. "We'll be as safe
moving as standing still. But keep your eyes peeled, Ralph."

They moved on slowly, with eyes turned to the right and the left, and
keeping as far as possible from the brushwood and the low-hanging
boughs of the trees. The mustangs seemed to realise that all was not
right, and pricked up their ears and smelled the air.




CHAPTER XIII.

A FIGHT WITH A PUMA.


"By George! Something is wrong now!"

It was Dan who uttered the words, as he again drew rein, followed by
Ralph. They had passed along a distance of less than quarter of a mile,
and the end of the forest was still a goodly distance ahead.

A fierce howling had arisen, followed by a snarling and a snapping
which caused the hearts of both boys to beat violently. The mustangs
trembled, and acted as if they wished to turn and run.

"It's a wildcat or a painter, or something, and he's got into a fight
with the wolves," continued Dan, as he strained his ears to catch the
sounds of the encounter. "They are having a lively tussle, aren't
they?"

"Let them fight it out," answered Ralph, with something of a shudder.
"I hope they all kill each other, too," he added.

The howling and snapping and snarling continued for several minutes,
then gradually died away in the distance. Still listening, they heard
some large beast trailing through the brush to one side of them. They
turned in the direction, and levelled their guns, but the animal did
not show itself.

Darkness was now coming on, and the boys wished themselves safe at the
ranch. It was one thing to ride through the timber in the daylight; it
was quite another to do so at night, and especially when the wild
animals were on the move.

"The worst of it is, one wild beast sets the other to fighting," said
Dan.

"And it's so dark a fellow can't see fifty feet ahead of him."

What to do was indeed a question, but neither of the lads wished to
remain in the timber all night, and, after another consultation, they
decided to rush their ponies along until the next burn was gained.

"If we go fast enough, no wild animal will have time to organise an
attack," said Ralph.

The wind was coming up, setting the dying leaves to scattering in all
directions. As the wind increased, the boughs of the trees swayed
violently over their heads.

Suddenly Dan, who was ahead, set up a shrill cry of alarm. He had seen
two eyes glaring down at him from the branches of a tree he was just
passing. He tried to pull back his mustang, and on the same instant a
huge puma, or, as he is commonly called in the southwest, a painter,
landed almost directly on his pony's neck.

The attack was a fierce one, and had it not been for a lucky accident
either Dan or his steed must have been killed within a few seconds, for
the puma is a heavy-built and powerful beast, and its bite, or a stroke
of its huge paw, is generally meant to be deadly.

But, as mentioned before, Dan held his gun over his saddle, and as the
painter came down the weapon went off, and the beast received the full
charge in the upper part of his left shoulder. The wound did not kill
him, or even seriously wound him, but it shocked and surprised the
beast so much that he fell back, and tumbled to the ground.

"Oh, Dan, look out!" shrieked Ralph, and pulled in his own steed. Then,
as his brother's mustang reared to one side, and the puma prepared to
make a second leap, he endeavoured to get a bead on the beast.

The puma had struck on his back. Now he had turned over and was
crouching down, like a cat getting ready to pounce upon a bird, his
bushy tail sweeping the grass with quick, nervous motion.

Bang! Ralph's gun spoke up just as the painter was in the act of
springing for Dan, and the shot took the beast in the stomach, making a
jagged and ugly wound. Again the beast dropped back, uttering a mingled
snarl of rage and pain. The snarl was exactly like that the boys had
previously heard, and they felt that this must be the beast that had
gotten into the fight with the wolves. Probably the wolves had gotten
away from him, and this and the taste of their blood had angered him
into making the present attack.

Both mustangs were now kicking and plunging, and the boys had all they
could do to keep their seats. The steeds backed away from the wounded
painter, and then Dan's mustang started to bolt. His course was under a
tree with low branches, and in a second the youth was brushed from his
back, and sent spinning to the ground.

Half stunned by his fall, Dan had yet sense enough left to know that he
must get away at once or the painter would be on him to rend him to
pieces. He leaped up, and as the fierce beast came on, grabbed the
nearest tree limb, to which he clung with might and main.

"He's coming!" roared Ralph. "Pull yourself up!" And he started to
reload with all possible speed, no light task while on the back of a
mustang that was so nervous and inclined to bolt.

Dan was doing as advised, when the puma limped up, his eyes blazing
with a fury which is indescribable. He did his best to make the leap,
and his teeth struck one of Dan's boot heels. But the boy kicked him
away and drew himself still higher, and for the moment was safe.

The wounds of the painter were now beginning to tell upon him, and he
could scarcely suppress a whine of pain. But his savage nature was not
yet conquered, and, unable to leap directly into the tree, he sprang
for the trunk and came up, slowly but steadily. When he was opposite to
where Dan lay, he paused, as if uncertain what should be his next move.

If the puma was undecided, so was the youth. If he leaped to the ground
again he was certain the beast would follow him, and he had no desire
to face the painter at such close quarters, especially as he had no
weapon of any kind with him, unless the jack-knife in his pocket might
be brought into play.

Ralph settled the question, both for his brother and the puma. As the
mustang refused to come closer, the youngest Radbury slipped to the
earth and ran up directly under the bough upon which Dan rested. At
this point he could get a fair view of the painter, and once more he
blazed away, aiming for the beast's neck and head.

Ralph's shot was all that could be wished for, and it was lucky that,
having fired, he leaped back, for, the instant after, the painter came
tumbling down, with a thud that fairly shook the earth. The shock also
brought down Dan, who landed just in front of the beast and lost no
time in retreating to his brother's side.

"Good for you, Ralph!"

"Look out, he's not dead yet!" answered Ralph. "See, he is going to
make another leap!"

But in this the youngest Radbury was mistaken. Fatally wounded, the
painter was merely endeavouring to get up on his legs, that he might
crawl into the bushes. He stood for a moment, then stumbled and fell
flat. Twice did he try thus to rise, then with a final whining growl he
lay out, stretched himself, and gave a quiver or two--and all was over.

"He's dead," said Ralph, when he could collect himself sufficiently to
speak. He was trembling like a leaf in a gale of wind.

"Don't be too sure,--they are as tough as a pine-knot," answered Dan.
"Load up again," and he picked up his own gun, which had fallen when he
was thrown from his saddle.

But the puma was dead, beyond a doubt, and they gradually drew closer
to inspect the beast they had brought down. He was at least four feet
long, and correspondingly tall and heavy, with a powerful tail and a
rather small head. His colour was of a tawny tint, fading out to a
dirty white between the limbs. The tip of the tail was black.

"He's a big fellow," remarked Ralph. "I wish we could get that skin
home. It would make a splendid rug."

"That's true, Ralph, but do you want to stay here long enough to skin
him?"

"No. But maybe we can tie him up in the tree and come back for him
to-morrow or next day."

This was decided upon, and then Dan set about catching his mustang. The
pony had run to a considerable distance, but he knew Dan's whistle
well, and after this was repeated several times he came back timidly,
although he would not go within a hundred feet of the dead puma.

Ralph carried a lariat, and this was tied to the dead beast and the
carcass was swung to the breeze, so that the other beasts of prey might
not get at it.

"Of course the vultures and hawks may attack him, but that can't be
helped," said Dan.

The work finished, they lost no time in continuing on their way, riding
rapidly, and keeping their eyes and ears on the alert as before. But
nothing else happened to alarm them, and shortly before midnight they
came within sight of the cabin.

"Home, sweet home!" cried Ralph. "I'll tell you I am glad to be back."

"And so am I," added Dan. "No more fights with a painter for me."

Pompey Shuck had heard them coming, and now ran out with a lantern to
take care of the horses, just as he had been in the habit of doing for
his master in Georgia, years before.

"I'se dun glad to see yo' back," he said, with a broad smile on his
ebony face. "Did de sodgers git away?"

"Yes, they are off for San Antonio," replied Dan. And then he told of
the adventure in the timber.

"A painter!" gasped Pompey. "I declar' to gracious, Mars' Dan, yo' an'
Mars' Ralph dun gittin' to be reg'lar hunters, he! he! I'se glad dat
beast didn't cotch dis chile!"

"I'm not anxious to hunt any more, at least for the present," said
Ralph, soberly. "I'll go back for that skin, and then I'm going to work
around the ranch, and wait for news from father and the army."




CHAPTER XIV.

THE BATTLE OF CONCEPCION.


At the time of the war between Texas and the government of Mexico, San
Antonio de Bexar could truthfully be said to be a city of importance
gone to decay. Many of the churches, convents, and missions were
deserted and fast going to ruin. The friars had returned to Mexico, and
with them had gone many of the best of the old Spanish families,
although here and there some Castilians remained, to keep up the style
of the times as best they could.

All told, the city numbered about twenty-five hundred inhabitants, the
majority of whom were Mexicans, with a fair sprinkling of American
trappers and traders. It was situated mostly on the west bank of the
river, at a point where both banks of the stream were lined with pecan
and other trees. There were two large public squares, once the scene of
much gaiety, but now overrun with grass and weeds, and between the two
squares stood the grand old buildings of the San Fernando Church. On
the east side of the river, about half a mile from the city proper,
stood the mission, with its church, convent, and walled courtyard,
commonly called the Alamo.

General Cos had now arrived at San Antonio with six hundred Mexican
militia, and as soon as he learned that the Texans were gathering for
another contest, he sent down to the Rio Grande for additional troops
and extra pieces of artillery. In the meantime, the troops under Austin
moved up to Salado Creek, four miles from San Antonio.

The time was a momentous one, and, arriving at the creek, the Texans
sent forth a flag with a message to General Cos, demanding the
surrender of the place.

"I refuse to surrender," was the Mexican commander's answer. "And if
you send another such flag it will be fired upon." This, of course,
brought negotiations to a complete standstill. Austin waited for
reinforcements, and the Mexicans spent the time in barricading the
highways leading out of the city and in strengthening their several
fortifications.

"We are not getting along very fast," remarked Mr. Radbury, to one of
his brother officers, while in the camp at Salado Creek.

"I believe Sam Houston is coming on to take charge," was the answer.
"He's an old war-horse and will be certain to lead us to victory."

Everybody felt that under Houston the Texan cause could not fail. But,
although Houston came up, he did not take command, declaring that the
expedition was in the hands of Austin, and that he was needed
elsewhere.

Several days passed, with much anxiety on both sides, and then Colonel
Bowie and Colonel James W. Fannin were ordered to take a band of scouts
with them and reconnoitre the enemy's position, with a view to moving
the Texan army still closer to San Antonio.

"We'll do it," said both officers, without hesitation, and hurried off,
taking about ninety men with them. In this body was a detachment under
Mr. Radbury, and Poke Stover was also along.

The party moved along slowly and cautiously through the clumps of trees
and mesquite-bushes, until some time during the afternoon, when they
came to a bend in the river known as the Horseshoe, where was located
the Mission Concepcion.

"This is a strong position," said Colonel Bowie. "The river and timber
will shelter us from behind, and in front is the bluff. It's an ideal
place."

"You are right," said Colonel Fannin. "General Austin cannot do better
than bring the army here."

The orders had been to return, if possible, before nightfall, but at
this time in the year it grew dark rapidly, and it was decided to go
into camp for the night; and outposts were accordingly stationed in all
directions, that they might not be surprised.

Although the Texans were not aware of it, the Mexican scouts had been
watching them closely, and no sooner did the party go into camp than
the enemy resolved to surround them in the darkness, and either shoot
them all down, or take them prisoners. For this purpose General Cos
sent out four hundred of his best troops, determined to teach the
Texans a lesson that they should never forget.

Lieutenant Radbury, as we must now call him, had charge of the outposts
along the river, and, anxious to see that his men did their duty, he
remained out with them, travelling slowly from one sentinel to another.
On duty at one point was Stover, as alert as though after some big
game.

"Any alarm, Poke?" asked the lieutenant, in a whisper, for it was not
known but that the Mexicans might be close at hand.

"Yes, and no," answered the old frontiersman, slowly. "Perhaps my
hearsight is deceivin' me, but I 'most reckoned as how I heard the
creakin' o' wheels about--thar they go ag'in!"

He broke off short, and held up his hand for silence. Both men listened
intently, and from the river bank they heard the steady, lumbering
creak as of heavy wagon wheels.

"Am I right, leftenant?" demanded the frontiersman, when the sounds had
come to an end.

"You are, Poke; do you know what it was?"

"Can't say exactly."

"It was the creaking of artillery wheels."

"Whoopee! Then they must be comin' over fer fair!"

"Yes. I will report at once."

Lieutenant Radbury lost no time in making his way to the tent in which
Colonel Fannin was poring over an old map of San Antonio.

"I have to report the coming of some artillery," he said, as he
saluted.

"Artillery?" repeated the commander. "Mexican artillery?"

"I think so, colonel." And Lieutenant Radbury related as much as he
knew. He had scarcely finished, when Colonel Bowie came in on the run.

"They are starting to surround us!" he cried. "They are bringing over
men and cannon!"

The whole camp was soon in alarm, and, after a short talk among the
officers, it was decided to bring up the men in a semicircle, close to
the bluff's edge. While this was going on, a shot rang out, and then
another, showing that one of the outposts had been fired upon.

As the night wore away, a heavy mist swept up the river, and even when
dawn came but little could be seen. Yet, anxious to avenge the loss at
Gonzales, the Mexicans opened fire at once, which, however, did no
harm. As the mists cleared away, the Mexican cavalry surrounded the
whole front of the Texans' position.

"Give it to 'em!" shouted the Texan officers. "Give it to 'em hot!"

The cry was drowned out by a solid fire from the Mexicans, who
continued to pour in volley after volley just as fast as they could
reload.

The Texans did not fire by volleys. The orders were: "Fire at will, and
make every shot bring down a greaser!" And there was a constant crack!
crack! and the Mexicans were seen to fall in all directions.

Lieutenant Radbury now found himself under actual fire, and instantly
his mind took him back to his service in the war of 1812. He carried a
rifle as well as a pistol, and did as good work as any man on the
field.

"They are preparing for a charge! They are bringing up a cannon!" was
the cry that soon rang along the line, and then the Mexican bugler
sounded out the command, and the cavalry came on with a rush calculated
to sweep everything before it. But the Texans stood firm.

"Drop 'em!" roared Colonel Bowie. "The first line, boys!" And a score
of shots rang out, and the first row of saddles was emptied almost
completely. Some of the horses were killed or wounded, and these,
falling, caused some confusion. In the meantime, other Mexicans
continued to drop, and soon the cavalry retreated to reform.

"Now they are going to use the cannon!" was the cry which went up
directly afterward, and then a four-pounder, stationed on a bluff, was
discharged. The cannon was aimed much too high, and it is said that
every shot from the piece went over the Texans' heads.

The cavalry now came on again, and it was seen that the Mexicans
intended to shift the position of the cannon so that they might
enfilade the line,--that is, shoot from one end to the other.

"Not much ye don't!" sang out Poke Stover, and, leaping to a slight
knoll, he took careful aim at one of the mules attached to the piece
and fired. Then he discharged his pistol at a second mule. Both beasts
were badly wounded, and, breaking away, they tore first through the
cavalry and then through the infantry, throwing the latter into much
confusion.

"We have 'em on the run!" Like magic the cry arose from nearly every
Texan's throat. The cavalry had charged again, and again the leading
line had gone down. Now they were retreating, with the infantry beside
them. Seeing it was of no use to remain longer, the cannoneer attempted
to spike the four-pounder, but a Texan sharpshooter cut him down in the
act.

"Come on, boys, let us follow 'em into San Antonio!" cried several, but
this the leaders would not allow, for they were only ninety strong, and
all were exhausted from the battle, which had been sharp if not of long
duration. So the Mexicans were allowed to form in the plain half a mile
away, and from there they marched rapidly back to the city. Their loss
was sixty-seven killed and forty wounded, which showed how deadly had
been the Texans' aim. The Texans lost but one killed and several
slightly wounded.




CHAPTER XV.

DAN TURNS THE TABLES.


To the boys at the ranch the days passed impatiently enough. But few
settlers came that way, so that they were cut off almost entirely from
communication with the outside world.

The puma skin had been brought in and cared for, and now they turned
their attention to getting ready for the winter, which was close at
hand.

One day, unable to stand it longer, Dan rode down to Gonzales for the
news. He found the town bubbling over with joy because of the victory
at Concepcion.

"They can't stand up against our men," said the storekeeper who was
talking to Dan. "The Texans are brave and nearly all good shots, and
they are fighting for their homes. The greasers, on the other hand, are
lazy and unreliable, paid to do what they are doing, and consequently
think of nothing but saving their own skin."

"Oh, I reckon some of them are patriotic enough," answered Dan. "But
they are in the minority."

"How can they be patriotic, and follow such a man as Santa Anna, who is
continually leading all Mexico by the nose? No, they are doing it for
the pay, and nothing else."

At the post-office Dan found a brief letter from his father, stating
that he was well, and that if no more fighting came off in the near
future he would come home on a short visit. So far there had been no
regular enlistments in the Texan army, and volunteers came and went
pretty much as they pleased.

From the storekeeper Dan learned that several bands of Indians had been
seen in the vicinity, moving to the west and north. Some were
Comanches, and others friendly Caddos.

"Well, I don't mind the Caddos," thought the boy, "but I don't want to
fall in with any more Comanches."

He had thought to go home that afternoon, or evening, as it is called
in Texas, but, after learning about the Indians, resolved to remain in
Gonzales all night and make the journey the first thing in the morning.

On the outskirts of Gonzales was the farm belonging to Henry Parker's
father, and thither he went, satisfied that he would be sure of a warm
welcome. He found Henry at home, and also Mrs. Parker, Mr. Parker being
away on business.

"Why, of course you must stay," said Mrs. Parker. "I am glad to have
company."

The balance of the day passed pleasantly, and after supper the young
man and Dan took a stroll up into the town to learn if any later news
had come in.

They had just gained the main street of the town when Dan saw before
him a figure that looked familiar. He quickened his pace, and soon
ranged up alongside of the man, who proved to be the half-breed, Hank
Stiger.

Stiger was partly under the influence of liquor, or otherwise he would
not have shown himself in Gonzales at that time, when the Indian raid
was still fresh in the settlers' minds. He glared angrily at Dan when
he saw the boy.

"Stiger, I want to have a talk with you," said Dan, with more firmness
than is usual in one of his age.

"What you want now?" demanded the half-breed.

"I want to know what you have done with my father's papers."

"What papers do you mean?"

"The papers you stole from my father's cabin while we were out after
the Indians."

"I was not near your house--I took no papers!" cried the half-breed,
fiercely. "Who says so tells a lie."

"I know you did take them, and unless you give them up I will have you
placed under arrest."

"Ha! don't you talk to Hank Stiger that way, or you will be sorry for
it." The half-breed's hand stole under his coat, and he showed the
handle of his hunting-knife. "Do you see dat?"

Dan sprang back, for he knew how treacherous the man before him could
be. But now Henry Parker stepped up.

"None of that, Stiger," he said, sharply, and placed his hand on the
handle of the pistol he carried in his belt.

"He wants to make trouble for me. He says I stole some papers," growled
Hank Stiger, sullenly.

"And I guess he is right, too," returned Henry. "If I understand the
matter, he has proof against you."

"Ha! did Big Foot tell----" Stiger broke off short, realising that he
was exposing himself.

"Yes, Big Foot told me everything," said Dan. "And you must give up
those papers, or take the consequence."

Hank Stiger's face grew as dark as a thunder-cloud.

"I'll pay off that Injun for it!" he cried. "I knew he wasn't to be
trusted, the skunk! But I ain't got no papers, never had 'em! This is a
put-up job to get squar' on account o' that deer," he continued, trying
to change the subject. "You got the deer, what more do you want?"

"I am not talking deer now,--I am asking for those papers,--and the
other things which were stolen," resumed Dan, doggedly. "What have you
done with them?"

"Find out fer yourself!" growled Hank Stiger, and turning swiftly, he
started on a run for the nearest corner.

"Stop! or I'll fire!" cried Henry Parker, as he drew his pistol, but
before he could make up his mind whether or not he had a right to fire
on the half-breed, Stiger was out of sight. Dan ran after him, and his
friend joined in the chase.

Stiger's course was toward the river, and having reached this, he
leaped into a canoe which was handy and began to paddle with all speed
for the opposite shore. A large lumber-raft was lying in midstream, and
this he kept as much as possible between himself and his pursuers.

"He's bound to get away if he can," observed Henry, as the pair gained
the bank of the Guadalupe almost out of breath.

"Here is another canoe--let us follow him in that," replied Dan.

Henry was willing, and they were soon on the river. Dan could paddle
well, and they made rapid progress around the raft and in the direction
Hank Stiger was taking.

Reaching the opposite shore at a point some distance below Gonzales,
the half-breed leaped into the bushes and made his way to a pine grove
farther away from the bank. The pursuers followed him to the point of
embarkation with ease, but here came to a halt.

"If it wasn't so dark we might follow his trail," observed Henry. "But
I can't see a thing under the trees."

"Here it is," came from Dan, who was on his hands and knees. "He went
into the pines. I'm going a bit farther," and he stalked off. Henry
remained behind to fasten the canoe, that the current might not carry
the craft off.

Dan had scarcely come up to the first row of pines when he saw
something moving over to his left. Satisfied that it was Stiger, he
sped in the direction. The half-breed saw him, and ran on.

"I've spotted him!" cried Dan to his friend. "Come on!"

"All right, I'm coming!" answered Henry.

On through the tall pines ran pursued and pursuers, until nearly
quarter of a mile had been covered. Dan was in front, with Henry close
behind.

"You are fools to follow me here!" roared Hank Stiger, as he came to a
halt. "Take that for your foolishness."

"Hide! he is going to fire!" exclaimed Dan, but before either he or his
friend could gain any shelter Hank Stiger discharged a pistol which he
carried. The bullet missed Dan, but struck Henry Parker across the
temple, and the young man went down, stunned and unconscious.

The unexpected turn of affairs made Dan's heart leap into his throat,
and he felt how imprudent both had been to thus expose themselves in
such an out of the way spot to a man in Stiger's condition. He drew his
own pistol, but the half-breed knew enough to dart out of sight behind
a thick clump of bushes.

"Henry, are you badly hurt?" questioned the boy, anxiously, but no
reply came back, and running to Parker, he found the young man flat on
his back and as still as death.

Never had Dan felt so badly as at this moment, for if his friend was
dead he felt that he would be more or less responsible for the murder.

He bent down and made a closer examination, and as he did this Henry
gave a deep shudder and opened his eyes for an instant.

"Thank God, he is alive!" burst from Dan's lips. Then, noticing the
blood trickling from Henry's temple, he bound up the young man's
forehead with his handkerchief.

In the meantime, Hank Stiger was making a dГ©tour, expecting to come up
behind Dan and surprise him. He had drank just enough to be utterly
reckless, and carried his pistol in his hand ready for another shot.

Providence saved Dan from the anticipated attack. While Stiger was
still two rods off, the boy happened to turn and catch sight of him.
His pistol was still in his hand, and, without stopping to think twice,
he fired on the half-breed.

The effect of the shot was curious, and the feat performed would be
hard to duplicate. The bullet from Dan's pistol struck the hammer of
Stiger's weapon, and while the pistol exploded and the ball sank into
the ground, the hammer was knocked off and hit the half-breed in the
cheek, inflicting an ugly wound. The bullet itself, having hit the
hammer, glanced downward and lodged in Stiger's leg, close to his
half-bent knee. The man gave a howl of pain and then fell flat.

In a moment Dan was ready for a second shot, but it was not needed.
Stiger's pistol was now useless, and as he could not stand up, because
of the intense pain in his knee, handling his knife was out of the
question. As he sat up, the boy faced him sternly.

"Up with your hands, Stiger," he said, sternly; and the hands went up,
and Dan was master of the situation.




CHAPTER XVI.

AFTER A MISSING MUSTANG.


"What are you going to do with me?" asked Hank Stiger, after a moment
of painful silence, during which Dan glanced toward Henry, to find his
friend reviving rapidly.

"You'll find out later, Stiger. I can tell you one thing, you've gotten
yourself in a pretty tight box."

"It wasn't my fault,--you forced the shooting," was the sullen
response. "Why didn't you leave me alone from the start?"

"Because I am bound to have those papers and the other articles you
stole, that's why."

"I took nothing, I swear it."

"Do you expect me to believe you,--after what has happened here, and
after that affair of the deer?"

At this Stiger was silent. He wanted to get up and rush at Dan, despite
the levelled pistol, but the wounded knee held him back. Had he been a
full-blooded Indian he would have suffered in silence, but, being only
a half-breed, and of poor Indian and white blood at that, he groaned
dismally.