He felt the thunder of hoofs and a horse was almost upon him, while the
rider, leaning from the saddle, cut at him with a saber. Ned, driven by
instinct rather than reason, sprang to one side the next instant, and
then the horseman was lost in the smoke. He dashed against a figure, and
was about to strike with his fist, the only weapon that he now had, when
he saw that he had collided with a Texan, unwounded like himself. Then
he, too, was lost in the smoke.

A consuming rage and horror seized Ned. Why he was not killed he never
knew. The cloud over the place where the slaughtered recruits lay
thickened, but the Mexicans never ceased to fire into it with their
rifles and muskets. The crackling of the weapons beat incessantly upon
the drums of his ears. Mingled with it were the cries and groans of the
victims, now fast growing fewer. But it was all a blurred and red
vision to Ned. While he was in that deadly volcano he moved by instinct
and impulse and not by reason.

A few of the unwounded had already dashed from the smoke and had
undertaken flight across the plain, away from the Mexican infantry,
where they were slain by the lances or muskets of the cavalry under
Urrea. Ned followed them. A lancer thrust so savagely at him that when
the boy sprang aside the lance was hurled from his hand. Ned's foot
struck against the weapon, and instantly he picked it up. A horseman on
his right was aiming a musket at him, and, using the lance as a long
club, he struck furiously at the Mexican. The heavy butt landed squarely
upon the man's head, and shattered it like an eggshell. Youthful and
humane, Ned nevertheless felt a savage joy when the man's skull crashed
beneath his blow.

It is true that he was quite mad for the moment. His rage and horror
caused every nerve and muscle within him to swell. His brain was a mass
of fire. His strength was superhuman. Whirling the great lance in club
fashion about his head he struck another Mexican across the shoulders,
and sent him with a howl of pain from the saddle. He next struck a horse
across the forehead, and so great was the impact that the animal went
down. A cavalryman at a range of ten yards fired at him and missed. He
never fired again, as the heavy butt of the lance caught him the next
instant on the side of the head, and he went to join his comrade.

All the while Ned was running for the timber. A certain reason was
appearing in his actions, and he was beginning to think clear