In the intervals he saw a lithe,
strong figure appear on the breastwork, and he was quite sure that it
was Urrea.
An hour of daylight passed. From the house of De La Garcia the other
division of Texans began to fire, the sharp lashing of their rifles
sounding clearly amid the duller crash of musketry and cannon from the
Mexicans. The Texans in the lower part of the Veramendi house were also
at work with their rifles. Every man was a sharpshooter, and, whenever a
Mexican came from behind a barricade, he was picked off. But the
Mexicans had also taken possession of houses and they were firing with
muskets from windows and loopholes.
"We must shoot down the cannoneers," shouted the Ring Tailed Panther to
"Deaf" Smith.
Smith nodded. The men on the roof were fifteen in number and now they
devoted their whole attention to the battery. Despite the drifting smoke
they hit gunner after gunner. The fever in Ned's blood grew. Everything
was red before him. His temples throbbed like fire. The spirit of battle
had taken full hold of him, and he fired whenever he caught a glimpse of
a Mexican.
"Deaf" Smith was on Ned's right, and he picked off a gunner. But to do
so he had lifted his head and shoulders above the coping.
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