town, but they were soon
compelled to turn back, and, again they sought the thickest timber along
the river. Now they were riding back, in the hope of finding some Texan
detachment with which they could cooeperate.

"If we keep huntin' we ought to find somebody who can tell us
somethin'," said the Panther.

"It's a long lane that has no news at the end," said Obed White, with an
attempt at buoyancy.

"That's so," said "Deaf" Smith. "We're bound to hit a trail somehow an'
somewhere. We heard that Fannin's men had surrendered an' then we heard
that firin'. But I guess that they wouldn't give up, without makin' good
terms for themselves, else they would have held out as the boys did in
the Alamo."

"Ah, the Alamo!" said Obed White. His face clouded at the words. He was
thinking then of the gallant youth who had escaped with him from the
dungeon under the sea in the castle of San Juan de Ulua, and who had
been his comrade in the long and perilous flight through Mexico into
Texas. The heart of the Maine man, alone in the world, had turned
strongly to Ned Fulton, and mourning him as one dead he also mourned him
as a son. But as he rarely talked of the things that affected him most,
he seldom mentioned Ned. The Panther was less restrained.

"We've got a big score to settle for the Alamo," he said. "Some good
friends of mine went down forever in that old mission an' there was that
boy, Ned Fulton. I s'pose it ain't so bad to be cut off when you're old,
an' you've had most of your life, but it does look bad for a strong,
fine boy just turnin' into a man to come straight up ag'inst the dead
wall."

Will Allen said nothing, but unbidden water forced itself to his eyes.
He and Ned had become the strongest of friends and comrades.

"After all that's been done to our people," said the Panther, "I feel
like rippin' an' r'arin' an' chawin' the rest of my life."

"We'll have the chance to do all of it we want, judgin' from the way
things are goin'," said "Deaf" Smith.

Then they relapsed into silence, and rode on through the timber, going
slowly as they were compelled to pick their way in the underbrush. It
was now nearly noon, and a brilliant sun shone overhead, but the foliage
of young spring was heavy on trees and bushes, and it gave them at the
same time shade and shelter.

As they rode they watched everywhere for a trail. If either Texans or
Mexicans had passed they wanted to know why, and when. They came at last
to h