Out of it came only the low, angry murmur of the
river's current.
As Ned turned the curve the wind grew much stronger. The bank of fog was
split asunder and then floated swiftly away in patches and streamers. On
his left beyond the river Ned saw the roofs of the town, now glistening
in the clear morning air, and on his right, only four or five hundred
yards away, he saw a numerous troop of Mexican cavalry. In the figure at
the head of the horsemen he was sure that he recognized Urrea.
Ned's first emotion was a terrible sinking of the heart. After all that
he had done, after all his great journeys, hardships and dangers, he was
to fail with the towers and roofs of San Antonio in sight. It was the
triumphant cry of the Mexicans that startled him into life again. They
had seen the lone horseman by the river and they galloped at once toward
him. Ned had made no mistake. It was Urrea, pressing forward ahead of
the army, who led the troop, and it may be that he recognized the boy
also.
With the cry of the Mexicans ringing in his ears, the boy shouted to Old
Jack. The good horse, as always, made instant response, and began to
race along the side of the river. But even his mighty frame had been
weakened by so much strain.
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