white Jim himself was madly reloading for a shot in time, if possible;
the tomahawk was poised over poor black Jim's bobbing wool; when a
report sounded smartly, and the "Indian fell back so suddenly his feet
flew up in the air."

Negro Jim's voice changed.

"Never mind now, Marse Jim. Marse Bob done knock his heels higher'n
his haid. Oh, glory!"

And puffing and sweating he dived into the fort with all the canteens.
He had brought the water. But--

"Marse Jim, please, sar, make dis water go fur as possible," he
pleaded. "'Twon't take much mo' dat kind o' work 'foh dar'll be one
nigger less in dis world. No, sar! If Marse Bob hadn't kep' him load
back an' make de bullet come straight dat big Injun'd put his hatchet
squar' into my haid! Har! har! He suht'inly did grunt when dat piece
ob lead hit him 'kerchug'! But mebbe next time dar wouldn't be no
piece ob lead."

Robert Armstrong was the man who had fired the shot. Black Jim had
recognized the rifle-crack. He knew all the men well, and they all
knew him. Although he ranked as only a slave, they were free to admit
that whatever his color he had done well; and Marse Jim Bowie was proud
of his faithful servant boy.

This evening the Indians withdrew, discouraged. The Texan
treasure-seekers went home while they had the chance. Negro Jim found
himself quite a hero in San Antonio; he lived long after his master
perished in the historic Alamo fight, there, and was called "Black Jim
Bowie" until his own death.

As for the other Jim Bowie, he did not give up his search for the
Amalgres mines. They filled his dreams. Almost immediately he left
his bride and went out again, into the San Saba country; this time was
more successful; discovered an old shaft eight feet deep, and at the
bottom chopped out some ore with his hatchet; had it assayed at New
Orleans. It tested rich indeed. He decided to take another party in.
The result was not wealth, but glory; for "Bowie's Indian Fight" has
never been forgotten.

There were eleven in the little company: Jim Bowie and Rezin Bowie,
David Buchanan, Robert Armstrong again, Jesse Wallace, Matt Doyle, Tom
McCaslin, James Coryell, Caephus Ham, black boy Charles ("Black Jim"
stayed at home, this time), and Mexican boy Gonzales. They rode out of
old San Antonio on September 2, 1831; everybody knew where: to open up
the lost Amalgres silver mines in the San Saba hills. Many a hand had
grasped their hands, to bid goo