ce there, hobbled their
horses among the live-oaks, ate supper, refilled their canteens, and
with night guards on watch they rolled in their blankets, until
morning. They still had hopes of getting to the San Saba ruins.

That was not to be. They were just cooking breakfast by the first gray
of daylight, when the guard called:

"Whoopee! They're a-comin', boys."

"Get your guns and lie low, boys," rapped Jim Bowie, the captain. "See
that your horses are tied short."

The guards ran in, to join the line.

"How many?"

"One buck afoot, with his nose to the ground, followin' the trail. But
plenty more behind."

The camp had been discovered. A dozen Indians, horseback, had ridden
forward, reconnoitering. There were shouts, a shrill chorus of glad
whoops; the back trail looked alive with warriors. One hundred, one
hundred and fifty--one hundred and sixty-four!

"Well," Captain Bowie remarked, "that's a big mouthful for eleven men.
I reckon we'd better try a talk, and see what they want. If we can
come to terms, so as to pull out with what we have, all right.
Otherwise, we'll fight. Who'll go with me?"

They all trusted Jim Bowie. He was not a large man; he was of medium
height, small-boned and wiry. He never blustered; had a quiet way and
a soft voice--but it could cut like steel when the case demanded. He
was a fighter, in defence of his rights or the rights of others; but
his bravery did not depend upon "bowie-knife" or such weapon.

"No; you stay here, Jim, and boss matters. I'll go," spoke his brother
Rezin. Rezin Bowie was like him in manner, but of slightly heavier
build.

"I'm with you," said Dave Buchanan.

"Go ahead, then. We'll cover you. Give them the peace sign and ask
them what they want."

Rezin and Dave stood, and walked boldly out of the live-oaks, into the
open; advanced on to within forty yards of the waiting Indians. Rezin
could be heard calling to them in Spanish.

"Como 'sta (How are you)? Where is your capitan (chief)! I want to
talk."

"How do? How do?" they answered, from all quarters--and drowned their
voices with their guns.

Down lurched Dave.

"Got me in the leg," he gasped.

"I'll take you in." Rezin spread two barrels of buck-shot among the
howling ranks, hoisted Dave upon his back, and with shot-gun in one
hand and pistol in the other staggered for the trees.

There was another volley.

"Got me twice more," Dave gasped. "Drop me if you can't ma