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, senor," 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 chea