l, and since Ned had given the warning in
time every one of the little party felt that they held a fortress.

Ned's pulses were still leaping, but great pride was in his heart. It
was he, not one of the veterans, who had saved them, and Bowie had
instantly spoken words of high approval. He was now lying flat on the
floor, but he looked out once more at the same opening. There were
certainly no projections on the wall now, but he could not tell whether
the Comanches were inside it or outside. If they crept to the sides of
the convent's stone walls the riflemen could not reach them there. He
wondered how many they were and how they had happened to raid so near to
San Antonio at this time.

Then ensued a long and trying period of silence. Less experienced men
than the Texans might have thought that the Comanches had gone away
after the failure of their attempt at surprise, but these veterans knew
better. Bowie and all of them were trying to divine their point of
attack and how to meet it. For the present, they could do nothing but
watch the doorways, and guard themselves against a sudden rush of their
dangerous foe.

"Panther," said Obed White, "it seems to me that you're getting all the
ripping and tearing and chawing that you want on this trip."

"It ain't what you might call monotonous," said the Ring Tailed Panther.
"I agree to that much."

It had been fully an hour now since Ned had rung the great bell, and
they had heard no noises save the usual ones of that night, the wind and
the rain. He surmised at last that the Comanches had taken advantage of
the war between the Texans and Mexicans to make a raid on the San
Antonio Valley, expecting to gallop in, do their terrible work, and then
be away. Doubtless it had not occurred to them that they would meet such
a group as that led by Bowie and the Ring Tailed Panther.

"Ned," said Bowie, "creep across the floor there to that rope and ring
the bell again. Ring it a long time. Either it will hurry the Comanches
into action, or friends of ours will hear it. It's likely that all the
Mexicans have now withdrawn into San Antonio, and that only Texans,
besides this band of Comanches, are abroad in the valley."

Ned wormed himself across the floor, and then, pressing himself against
the wall, reached up for the rope. A strange thought darted into his
brain. He had a deep feeling for music, and he could play both the
violin and piano. He could also ring chimes. He was keyed