Ned said nothing, but his pulses were leaping. Perhaps the silent boy
appreciated more than any other present that this was the beginning of
a great epic in the American story. The young student, his head filled
with completed dramas of the past, could look further into the future
than the veteran men of action around him.

The debate was short. In truth it was no debate at all, because all were
of one mind. Since the Mexicans had already fired upon them and would
not go away they would cross the river and attack Castenada. As Obed had
predicted, Moore was unanimously chosen leader, the title of Colonel
being bestowed upon him, and they set to work at once for the attack.

Ned and Obed walked together to the cluster of oaks in which the two had
spent so much time. Both were grave, appreciating fully the fact that
they were about to go into battle.

"Ned," said Obed, "you and I have been through a lot of dangers together
and we're not afraid to talk about dangers to come. In case anything
should happen to you is there any word you want sent anybody?"

"To nobody except Mr. Austin. He's been very good to me here and in
Mexico. I suppose I've got some relatives in Missouri, but they are so
distant I've forgotten who they are, and probably they never knew
anything about me. If it's the other way about, Obed, what word shall I
send?"

"Nothing to nobody. I had a stepfather in Maine, who didn't like me, and
my mother died five years after her second marriage. I'm a Texan, Ned,
same as if I were born on this soil, and my best friends are around me.
I'll live and die with 'em."

The two, the man and the boy, shook hands, but made no further display
of feeling. The force was organized in the village, beyond the sight of
the Mexicans, who were lounging in the grass, although they had posted
sentinels. Every Texan was well armed, carrying a rifle, pistol and
knife. Some had in addition the Indian tomahawk.

It was the first day of October and the coolness of late afternoon had
come. A fresh breeze was blowing from the southwest. The little command,
silent save for the hoof beats of their horses, rode down to the river.
The women and children looked after them and they, too, were silent. A
strange Indian stoicism possessed them all.

Ned and Obed were side by side. The breeze cooled the forehead and
cheeks of the boy, but his pulses beat hard and fast. He looked back at
Gonzales and he knew that he would never forget th