It was Old Jack, the faithful dumb brute, of which he had thought so
rarely during all those tense days in the Alamo. The Mexicans had not
taken him. He was here, and happy chance had brought him and his master
together again. It was so keen a joy to see a friend again, even an
animal, that Ned put his arm around Old Jack's neck, and for the first
time tears came to his eyes.

"Good Old Jack!" he said, patting his horse's nose. "You must have been
waiting here all the time for me. And you must have fared well, too. I
never before saw you looking so fat and saucy."

The finding of the horse simplified Ned's problem somewhat. He had
neither saddle nor bridle, but Old Jack always obeyed him beautifully.
He believed that if it came to the pinch, and it became necessary for
him to ride for his life, he could guide him in the Indian fashion with
the pressure of the knees.

He made a sort of halter of withes which he fastened on Old Jack's head,
and then he sprang upon his bare back, feeling equal to almost anything.
He rode west by south now, his course taking him toward Goliad, and he
went on at a good gait until twilight. A little later he made out the
shapes of wild turkeys, then very numerous in Texas among the boughs of
the trees, and he brought a fine fat one down at the first shot. After
some difficulty he lighted a fire with the flint and steel, which the
Mexicans fortunately had not taken from him, toasted great strips over
the coals, and ate hungrily of juicy and tender wild turkey.

He was all the time aware that his fire might bring danger down upon
him, but he was willing to chance it. After he had eaten enough he took
the remainder of his turkey and rode on. It was a clear, starry night
and, as he had been awake only since noon, he continued until about ten
o'clock, when he again took the turf under a tree for a couch. He
slipped the rude halter from Old Jack, patted him on the head and said:

"Old Jack, after the lofty way in which you have behaved I wouldn't
disgrace you by tying you up for the night. Moreover, I know that you're
the best guard I could possibly have, and so, trusting you implicitly, I
shall go to sleep."

His confidence was justified, and the next morning they were away again
over the prairie. Ned was sure that he would meet roving Texans or
Mexicans before noon, but he saw neither. He surmised that the news of
Santa Anna's great force had sent all the Texans eastward, but the
loneliness