een the slit left by the brim of his sombrero and his serape he
watched the great fires die slowly. Most of the Mexicans were asleep
now, and their figures were growing indistinct in the shadows. But Ned,
rising, slouched forward, imitating the gait of the laziest of the
Mexicans. Yet his eyes were always watching shrewdly through the slit.
Very little escaped his notice. He went along the entire Mexican line
and then back again. He had a good mathematical mind, and he saw that
the estimate of 7,000 for the Mexican army was not too few. He also saw
many cannon and the horses for a great cavalry force. He knew, too, that
Santa Anna had with him the best regiments in the Mexican service.

On his last trip along the line Ned began to look for the Panther and
Obed, but he saw no figures resembling theirs, although he was quite
sure that he would know the Panther in any disguise owing to his great
size. This circumstance would make it more dangerous for the Panther
than for either Obed or himself, as Urrea, if he should see so large a
man, would suspect that it was none other than the redoubtable
frontiersman.

Ned was thinking of this danger to the Panther when he came face to face
with Urrea himself. The young Mexican captain was not lacking in
vigilance and energy, and even at that late hour he was seeing that all
was well in the camp of Santa Anna. Ned was truly thankful now that
Mexican custom and the coldness of the night permitted him to cover his
face with his serape and the brim of his sombrero.

"Why are you walking here?" demanded Urrea.

"I've just taken a message to General Castrillon," replied Ned.

He had learned already that Castrillon commanded the artillery, and as
he was at least a mile away he thought this the safest reply.

"From whom?" asked Urrea shortly.

"Pardon, sir," replied Ned, in his best Spanish, disguising his voice as
much as possible, "but I am not allowed to tell."

Ned's tone was courteous and apologetic, and in ninety-nine cases out of
a hundred Urrea would have contented himself with an impatient word or
two. But he was in a most vicious temper. Perhaps he had been rebuked by
Santa Anna for allowing the rescue of Roylston.

"Why don't you speak up?" he exclaimed. "Why do you mumble your words,
and why do you stand in such a slouching manner. Remember that a soldier
should stand up straight."

"Yes, my captain," said Ned, but he did not change his attitude. The
tone and manner