hite critters here,--'ceptin' it might be a silver deer, and
they are as scarce as snowstorms in July."

They were now in the timber, and moving along at a steady gait. On all
sides the ground was as hard as a rock, and the keen air was bracing to
the last degree. A stiff breeze was blowing, swaying the branches
overhead, and occasionally bringing down a belated nut on their heads.

By noon they calculated that they had covered eighteen miles, which was
not bad, considering the nature of the ground they had traversed. With
the rising of the sun it grew warmer, and, seeking a sheltered spot,
they dismounted and partook of their midday meal. They had still
twenty-six miles to go, but hoped to cover that distance before
nightfall.

"I wonder how the garrison at San Antonio is making out," said Dan, as
they sat eating.

"Like as not a good many of the soldiers went home for Christmas,"
returned Stover. "To my mind, it's a great pity that Sam Houston ain't
succeeded in organising the army as he intended. He seems to be the
only leader who thinks that Santa Anna will come over here with a big
force to knock the spots out of us. All the others are quarrelling over
politics and places."

"I don't think it's quite as bad as that," laughed Dan. "But it seems
to me they ought to get an army together."

"The leaders ought to act in concert, Dan. If they don't, their
soldiers are licked afore they go into battle," remarked the old
frontiersman, sagely. "What Texas needs most of all is one first-class
leader, whom all obey." And in this speech Stover came very near to
telling the exact truth.

The meal finished, they were soon in the saddle again, and less than an
hour later they came upon the trail leading directly into San Antonio.
There was a hill of rocks on one side and a belt of timber on the
other, with here and there a water-course to be crossed.

So far, nothing had been seen of any game but a deer that was too far
away to be brought down, and a few hares, which neither took the
trouble to shoot. But now Poke Stover called attention to a flock of
wild turkeys resting along the rocks not a hundred yards distant.

"A fine shot, Dan!" he whispered. "We can make a good trade with 'em,
down in Bexar."

"That's so," answered the boy. "I'm ready to shoot when you are."

"Let us go into the timber, and come up in front of 'em," suggested the
old frontiersman. "The rocks kind o' hide 'em from this p'int."

They dismoun