The little band that
defiled across the plain toward the Alamo numbered less than one hundred
and fifty men, and many of them were without experience.
They were not far upon the plain when Ned saw a great figure coming
toward him. It was Old Jack, who had been forgotten in the haste and
excitement. The saddle was still on his back and his bridle trailed on
the ground. Ned met him and patted his faithful head. Already he had
taken his resolution. There would be no place for Old Jack in the Alamo,
but this good friend of his should not fall into the hands of the
Mexicans.
He slipped off saddle and bridle, struck him smartly on the shoulder and
exclaimed:
"Good-by, Old Jack, good-by! Keep away from our enemies and wait for
me."
The horse looked a moment at his master, and, to Ned's excited eyes, it
seemed for a moment that he wished to speak. Old Jack had never before
been dismissed in this manner. Ned struck him again and yet more
sharply.
"Go, old friend!" he cried.
The good horse trotted away across the plain. Once he looked back as if
in reproach, but as Ned did not call him he kept on and disappeared over
a swell. It was to Ned like the passing of a friend, but he knew that
Old Jack would not allow the Mexicans to take him.
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