"The leaders ought to act in concert, Dan. If they don't, their soldiers are licked afore they go into battle," remarked the old frontiersman, sagely. "What Texas needs most of all is one first-cla.s.s leader, whom all obey." And in this speech Stover came very near to telling the exact truth.

The meal finished, they were soon in the saddle again, and less than an hour later they came upon the trail leading directly into San Antonio.

There was a hill of rocks on one side and a belt of timber on the other, with here and there a water-course to be crossed.

So far, nothing had been seen of any game but a deer that was too far away to be brought down, and a few hares, which neither took the trouble to shoot. But now Poke Stover called attention to a flock of wild turkeys resting along the rocks not a hundred yards distant.

"A fine shot, Dan!" he whispered. "We can make a good trade with 'em, down in Bexar."

"That's so," answered the boy. "I'm ready to shoot when you are."

"Let us go into the timber, and come up in front of 'em," suggested the old frontiersman. "The rocks kind o' hide 'em from this p'int."

They dismounted and tied their mustangs to a tree. Then, with guns ready for use, they crept off in a semicircle, coming up to within sixty yards of the turkeys before they were discovered.

"Fire!" cried Stover, and bang! bang! went the two guns, one directly after the other. They had loaded with large shot, and five turkeys fell, two killed outright and the others badly wounded. Rushing in, Stover quickly caught the wounded ones and wrung their necks.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'THAT'S WHAT I CALL A PRETTY GOOD HAUL!' CRIED DAN, ENTHUSIASTICALLY."]

"That's what I call a pretty good haul," cried Dan, enthusiastically.

"It's not bad, lad, although I've seen better. I wish I could have gotten a second shot at 'em. We might have----" The old frontiersman broke off short. "What's that?"

"It's a horse's hoofs on the trail," answered Dan. "Somebody is coming this way."

He ran out of the bushes into which the wild turkeys had fallen, and gazed along the road. Just above was a curve, and around this came sweeping something which caused his heart to bound with delight.

It was the white mustang.

"By hookey!" came from Poke Stover. "It's him, eh, Dan?"

"Yes. Oh, if only I had my la.s.so!" For that article was attached to the saddle of the mustang in the timber. Dan was on the point of crossing the trail when Stover caught him by the arm.

"Don't scare the pony----" began the frontiersman, but he was too late.

The white mustang had caught sight of Dan and he came to a halt instantly. Then he reared and plunged and swept by, and the last they saw of him, he was running toward San Antonio at the top of his speed.

"We've seen him,--and that's all the good it will do us," remarked Poke Stover, as Dan gazed blankly up the road, and then at his companion.

"Can't we catch him, Poke? Oh, we must!"

"Might as well try to catch a streak o' greased lightning, lad."

"I don't know about that. He looked tired, as if he had been running a long while."

"You are sure on that? I didn't git no fair view of the critter."

"Yes, he was covered with sweat. Perhaps somebody else has been following him."

"Well, it won't do no harm to go after him,--seein' as how he is steerin' in our direction," said the old frontiersman, and, picking up the dead turkeys, they ran for their mustangs and leaped into the saddles.

Several miles were covered, and they were on the point of giving up the chase when they encountered a settler with his prairie schooner, or big covered wagon, on his way to Guadalupe.

"Ye-as, I seen thet air white critter jest below yere," the settler drawled. "He war goin' 'bout fifteen miles an hour, I reckoned. Looked tired. I wanted to go arfter him, but Susy, she wouldn't allow it."

"No, Sam d.i.c.kson, ye sha'n't go arfter no game or sech," came from the interior of the schooner. "Ye'll settle down an' go ter farmin', an'

the sooner the better 'twill be fer yer hide, mind me!" And the dark, forbidding face of a woman, some years older than the man, appeared from behind the dirty flaps of the wagon-covering. At once the settler cracked his whip and drove on.

Poke Stover chuckled to himself. "Thar's married life fer ye, Dan," he remarked. "Do ye wonder I'm a single man?"

"My mother wasn't of that kind," answered the youth, and then Stover abruptly changed the subject, and away they galloped again after the white mustang, little dreaming of the trouble into which that chase was to lead them.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE MEXICAN ARMY AT SAN ANTONIO.

The day was almost spent when, from a slight hill, they came in sight of San Antonio, the setting sun gilding the tops of the church steeples, and making the sluggish river appear like a stream of gold.

"No white mustang yet," said Dan. "I reckon we might as well give up the chase and go right into the city."

"Not yet!" cried Poke Stover, pointing with his hand to the northwestward. "Thar ye are, Dan!"

Dan looked in the direction, and in a patch of cottonwoods made out a white object, moving slowly along. It was the mustang they were after, so tired out that he could scarcely move from one spot to the next.

"We've got him now!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the youth, enthusiastically. "And just as I was ready to give up, too! Come on!"

Away he swept, with all the quickness of which his own wearied steed was capable, and Poke Stover followed him. The white mustang saw them coming, and set off into the timber on a feeble run.

The course of the pursued creature was around the northern approach to San Antonio and then toward the Medina River. Many times they thought to give up the chase, but then the white mustang seemed so near and so ready to drop that they kept on until the river bank was gained. Here the mustang disappeared into a pine brake; and it may be as well to add, right here, that neither the Radburys nor Poke Stover ever saw him again.

"Where is he?" asked Dan, a few minutes after the animal had disappeared. "Do you think he leaped into the water?"

"I heard a splash," answered the old frontiersman. "There it goes again." He tried to pierce the darkness with his eyes. "There is something over yonder, that---- Whoopee, Dan, look!"

There was no need for Poke Stover to call the boy's attention to what was on the other side of the Medina, for Dan was already looking, "with all eyes," as the saying is. He had made out a number of Mexican cavalrymen, moving up and down along the west bank, and now he noted two pieces of artillery, which the cannoneers were trying to run out on two rafts moored close at hand.

"The Mexican army, as sure as you are born!" cried Stover, in an excited whisper. "Lad, we have made an important discovery. They must be bound for Bexar!"

"Yes, and there are thousands of them," answered Dan. His heart was beating so rapidly that he could scarcely speak. "Poke, what had we best do?"

"Find out what their game is, first, and then ride back to Bexar as fast as our mustangs can make it. If the garrison isn't warned, there will surely be a great slaughter."

There was a stiff norther blowing, making the swollen stream rough and dangerous to cross, and the Mexicans were consulting among themselves as to how they should proceed. With bated breath, the boy and the old frontiersman watched every movement, and, at the same time, tried to figure up mentally how many Mexicans there were.

"At least a thousand," said Poke Stover, but, as we know, he was mistaken; the force of the enemy numbered nearly seven times that many, although, to be sure, they were not all in that immediate vicinity.

"We will cross the river and investigate," said one of the officers, presently, and a large flat-bottomed boat was brought around and a dozen soldiers leaped into it.