ad escaped from the
dungeons under the sea only to find a grave in the sea above. Their boat
had been found far out in the bay where the returning waves carried it,
but the fishes would feed on their bodies, and it was well, because the
Texans were wicked people, robbers and brigands who dared to defy the
great and good Santa Anna, the father of his people.

Meanwhile, the two slept on, never stirring under the grass. It is true
that the boy had dreams of a mighty castle from which he had fled and of
a roaring ocean over which he had passed, but he landed happily and the
dream sank away into oblivion. Peons worked in a field not a hundred
yards away, but they sought no fugitives, and they had no cruel thoughts
about anything. That Spanish strain in them was wholly dormant now. They
had heard in the night the signal guns from San Juan de Ulua and the
tenderest hearted of them said a prayer under his breath for the boy
whom the storm had given to the sea. Then they sang together as they
worked, some soft, crooning air of love and sacrifice that had been sung
among the hills of Spain before the Moor came. Perhaps if they had known
that the boy and man were asleep only a hundred yards away, the
tenderest hearted among them at least would have gone on with their work
just the same.

Ned was the first to awake and it was past noon. He threw off the grass
and stood up refreshed but a little stiff. He awoke Obed, who rose,
yawning tremendously and plucking wisps of grass from his hair. The
droning note of a song came faintly, and the two listened.

"Peons at work in a field," said the boy, looking through the trees.
"They don't appear to be very warlike, but we'd better go in the other
direction."

"You're right," said Obed. "It's best for us to get away. If we tempt
our fate too much it may overtake us, but before we go let's take a last
view of our late home, San Juan de Ulua. See it over there, cut out in
black against the blue sky. It's a great fortress, but I'm glad to bid
it farewell."

"Shall we take the musket?" asked Ned. "It's unloaded, and we have
nothing with which to load it."

"I think we'll stick to it," replied Obed, "we may find a use for it,
but the first thing we want, Ned, is something to eat, and we've got to
get it. Curious, isn't it, how the fear of recapture, the fear of
everything, melts away before the demands of hunger."

"Which means that we'll have to go to some Mexican hut and ask for
food