He would not find here the pliancy, the cunning, the craft and
the dark genius of Santa Anna, but he would find men who talked
straight, who shot straight, and who feared nobody.
They were sixteen in number, and all were clad wholly in buckskin, with
fur caps upon their heads. They were heavily armed, every man carrying
at least a rifle, a pistol, and a formidable knife, invented by Bowie.
All were powerful physically, and every face had been darkened by the
sun. Ned felt that such a group as this was a match for a hundred
Mexicans or Lipans.
They worked dextrously and rapidly, unsaddling their horses and
tethering them where they could graze in the open, drawing up the dead
wood until it made a heap which was quickly lighted, and then cooking
strips of venison over the coals. There was so much life, so much
cheerfulness, and so much assurance of strength and invincibility that
Ned began to feel as if he did not have a care left. All the men already
called him Ned, and he felt that every one of them was his friend.
Karnes put a strip of venison on the sharp end of a stick, and broiled
it over the blaze. It gave out a singularly appetizing odor, and when it
was done he extended it to the boy.
"Here, Ned," he said, "take this on the end of your knife and eat it.
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