As Ned
and his comrades dismounted they shouted that the Mexicans were on a
hill not far away and were fortifying.
Moore promptly had his men run forward that bone of contention, the
cannon, and a solid shot was sent humming toward those who had pursued
the three. The heavy report came back in sullen echoes from the prairie,
and the stream of fire split the fog asunder. But in a moment the mists
and vapors closed in again, and the Mexicans were gone. Then the little
army stood for a few moments, motionless, but breathing heavily. The
cannon shot had made the hearts of everyone leap. They were inured to
Indian battle and every kind of danger, but this was a great war.
"Boys," said Moore, "we are here and the enemy is before us."
A deep shout from broad chests and powerful lungs came forth. Then by a
single impulse the little army rushed forward, led by Ned, Obed and the
Ring Tailed Panther, who took them straight toward the mound. As they
ran, the great Texan sun proved triumphant. It seemed to cleave the fog
like a sword blade, and then the mists and vapors rolled away on either
side, to right and to left of the Texans. The whole plain, dewy and
fresh, sprang up in the light of the morning.
They saw the steep mound crowned by the Mexicans, and men still at work
on the hasty trench.
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