A
strange Indian stoicism possessed them all.
Ned and Obed were side by side. The breeze cooled the forehead and
cheeks of the boy, but his pulses beat hard and fast. He looked back at
Gonzales and he knew that he would never forget that little village of
little log cabins. Then he looked straight before him at the yellow
river, and the shore beyond, where the Mexican camp lay.
It was now seven o'clock and the twilight was coming.
"Isn't it late to make an attack?" he said to Obed.
"It depends on what happens. Circumstances alter battles. If we surprise
them there'll be time for a fine fight. If they discover our advance it
may be better to wait until morning."
They rode into the water twenty abreast, and made for the farther shore.
So many horses made much splashing, and Ned expected bullets, but none
came. Dripping, they reached the farther shore and went straight toward
the Mexican camp. Then came sudden shouts, the flash of rifles and the
singing of bullets. The Mexican sentinels had discovered the Texan
advance.
Moore ordered his men to halt, and then he held a short conference with
the leaders. It was very late, and they would postpone the attack until
morning. Hence, they tethered their horses in sight of the Mexican camp,
set many sentinels and deliberately began to cook their suppers.
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