r, or big
covered wagon, on his way to Guadalupe.

"Ye-as, I seen thet air white critter jest below yere," the settler
drawled. "He war goin' 'bout fifteen miles an hour, I reckoned. Looked
tired. I wanted to go arfter him, but Susy, she wouldn't allow it."

"No, Sam Dickson, ye sha'n't go arfter no game or sech," came from the
interior of the schooner. "Ye'll settle down an' go ter farmin', an'
the sooner the better 'twill be fer yer hide, mind me!" And the dark,
forbidding face of a woman, some years older than the man, appeared
from behind the dirty flaps of the wagon-covering. At once the settler
cracked his whip and drove on.

Poke Stover chuckled to himself. "Thar's married life fer ye, Dan," he
remarked. "Do ye wonder I'm a single man?"

"My mother wasn't of that kind," answered the youth, and then Stover
abruptly changed the subject, and away they galloped again after the
white mustang, little dreaming of the trouble into which that chase was
to lead them.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE MEXICAN ARMY AT SAN ANTONIO.

The day was almost spent when, from a slight hill, they came in sight
of San Antonio, the setting sun gilding the tops of the church
steeples, and making the sluggish river appear like a stream of gold.

"No white mustang yet," said Dan. "I reckon we might as well give up
the chase and go right into the city."

"Not yet!" cried Poke Stover, pointing with his hand to the
northwestward. "Thar ye are, Dan!"

Dan looked in the direction, and in a patch of cottonwoods made out a
white object, moving slowly along. It was the mustang they were after,
so tired out that he could scarcely move from one spot to the next.

"We've got him now!" ejaculated the youth, enthusiastically. "And just
as I was ready to give up, too! Come on!"

Away he swept, with all the quickness of which his own wearied steed
was capable, and Poke Stover followed him. The white mustang saw them
coming, and set off into the timber on a feeble run.

The course of the pursued creature was around the northern approach to
San Antonio and then toward the Medina River. Many times they thought
to give up the chase, but then the white mustang seemed so near and so
ready to drop that they kept on until the river bank was gained. Here
the mustang disappeared into a pine brake; and it may be as well to
add, right here, that neither the Radburys nor Poke Stover ever saw him
again.

"Where is he?" asked Dan, a few minutes after the a