ll alive, but his heart was now here in the Alamo with the
Texans.

He listened intently, but he heard no sound of any Mexican advance. It
occurred to him that a formidable attack might be made here,
particularly under the cover of darkness. A dashing leader like the
younger Urrea might attempt a surprise.

He dropped back inside and went to one of the sentinels who was standing
on an abutment with his head just showing above the wall. He was a young
man, not more than two or three years older than Ned, and he was glad to
have company.

"Have you heard or seen anything?" asked Ned.

"No," replied the sentinel, "but I've been looking for 'em down this
way."

They waited a little longer and then Ned was quite sure that he saw a
dim form in the darkness. He pointed toward it, but the sentinel could
not see it at all, as Ned's eyes were much the keener: But the shape
grew clearer and Ned's heart throbbed.

The figure was that of a great horse, and Ned recognized Old Jack.
Nothing could have persuaded him that the faithful beast was not seeking
his master, and he emitted a low soft whistle. The horse raised his
head, listened and then trotted forward.

"He is mine," said Ned, "and he knows me."

"He won't be yours much longer," said the sentinel. "Look, there's a
Mexican creeping along the ground after him."

Ned followed the pointing finger, and he now noticed the Mexican, a
vaquero, who had been crouching so low that his figure blurred with the
earth. Ned saw the coiled lariat hanging over his arm, and he knew that
the man intended to capture Old Jack, a prize worth any effort.

"Do you think I ought to shoot him?" asked the sentinel.

"Not yet, at least," replied Ned. "I brought my horse into this danger,
but I think that he'll take himself out of it."

Old Jack had paused, as if uncertain which way to go. But Ned felt sure
that he was watching the Mexican out of the tail of his eye. The
vaquero, emboldened by the prospect of such a splendid prize, crept
closer and closer, and then suddenly threw the lasso. The horse's head
ducked down swiftly, the coil of rope slipped back over his head, and he
dashed at the Mexican.

The vaquero was barely in time to escape those terrible hoofs. But
howling with terror he sprang clear and raced away in the darkness. The
horse whinnied once or twice gently, waited, and, when no answer came to
his calls, trotted off in the dusk.

"No Mexican will take your horse," said t