aven't knowed you long, but you've been like a son to me. Now go, an'
God speed you!"

Ned recalled afterward that he did not say anything about Roylston's
relieving force. What he thought of then was the deep feeling in
Crockett's words.

"I'm coming back," he said, "and I hope to hunt buffalo with you over
the plains of a free Texas."

"Go! go! Hurry, Ned!" said Crockett.

"Good-by," said Ned, and he dropped lightly to the ground.

He was outside the Alamo after eleven days inside, that seemed in the
retrospect almost as many months. He flattened himself against the wall,
and stood there for a minute or two, looking and listening. He thought
he might hear Crockett again inside, but evidently the Tennesseean had
gone back at once. In front of him was only the darkness, pierced by a
single light off toward the west.

Ned hesitated. It was hard for him to leave the Alamo and the friends
who had been knitted to him by so many common dangers, yet his errand
was one of high importance--it might save them all--and he must do it.
Strengthening his resolution he started across an open space, walking
lightly. As Crockett had truly said, with his perfect knowledge of the
language he might pass for a Mexican. He had done so before, and he did
not doubt his ability to do so again.

He resolved to assume the character of a Mexican scout, looking into the
secrets of the Alamo, and going back to report to Santa Anna. As he
advanced he heard voices and saw earthworks from which the muzzles of
four cannon protruded. Behind the earthwork was a small fire, and he
knew that men would be sitting about it. He turned aside, not wishing to
come too much into the light, but a soldier near the earthwork hailed
him, and Ned, according to his plan, replied briefly that he was on his
way to General Santa Anna in San Antonio.

But the man was talkative.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Pedro Miguel Alvarado," replied Ned on the spur of the moment.

"Well, friend, it is a noble name, that of Alvarado."

"But it is not a noble who bears it. Though a descendant of the great
Alvarado, who fought by the side of the glorious and mighty
conquistador, Hernando Cortez, I am but a poor peasant offering my life
daily for bread in the army of General Santa Anna."

The man laughed.

"You are as well off as I am," he said. "But what of the wicked Texans?
Are they yet ready to surrender their throats to our knives? The dogs
hold us over long. I