n force,
which was now out of gunshot. Never had the Texan rifles done more
deadly service. The Texan loss was small.

Ned dropped down from the steps and sat on the grass. His face was wet
with perspiration, and he wiped it on his sleeve. He was compelled to
cough once or twice to clear his throat of the smoke. The Ring Tailed
Panther also was warm, but satisfied.

"A Texan does best in a fight against odds," he said, "an' we have the
odds to-day. But don't you think, Ned, that it's over already?"

"I don't," said Ned. "I know that they will be up to some new trick
soon. They will realize that they underrated us at first."

He sprang back into the steps that he had cut in the bluff, and took a
good look at the Mexicans.

"They are nearly ready with Chapter Second, Obed," he said. "They are
bringing up that cannon."

"Should have used it in the first place," said the Ring Tailed Panther.
"They didn't show much sense."

The Mexicans were running the gun forward to a little mound, whence they
could drop shells and shot over the edge of the bluff, directly among
the Texans. It was a far more formidable danger than the impulsive
charge, and Bowie at once took measures to meet it. He called the best
rifle shots. Among them were Ned, Obed and the Ring Tailed Panther.

"There are fifteen of you," said the dauntless leader, "and your rifles
will reach that gun. Shoot down every man who tries to handle it. The
rest of us will attend to the new charge that is coming."

The second attack was to be more formidable than the first. The Mexican
cavalry had massed anew. Ned saw the officers, driving the men into
place with the flats of swords, and he heard the note of a trumpet,
singing loud and clear over the prairie. Then his eyes turned back to
the gun, because there his duty lay.

Ned heard the trumpet peal again, and then the thud of hoofs. He saw the
rammers and spongers gather about the gun. The rifle of the Ring Tailed
Panther cracked, and the man with the rammer fell. Another picked it up,
but he went down before the bullet of Obed. Then a sponger fell, and
then the gunner himself was slain by the bullet. The Texans were doing
wonderful sharpshooting. The gun could not be fired, because nobody
could live near it long enough to fire it. Its entire complement was
cleared away by the swift little bullets.

Off to right and left, Ned heard again the rising crackle of the rifle
fire, and he also heard the steady monoto