"Jest about a half dozen," replied Crockett. "I think I can use that
many before they clear out."
Six of the long-barreled Texan rifles were laid at Crockett's feet. Ned
watched with absorbed interest. Crockett's eye was on the nearest
battery and he was slowly raising Betsy.
"Which is to be first, Davy?" asked Bowie.
"The one with the rammer in his hand."
Crockett took a single brief look down the sights and pulled the
trigger. The man with the rammer dropped to the earth and the rammer
fell beside him. He lay quite still. Crockett seized a second rifle and
fired. A loader fell and he also lay still. A third rifle shot, almost
as quick as a flash, and a gunner went down, a fourth and a man at a
wheel fell, a fifth and the unerring bullet claimed a sponger, a sixth
and a Mexican just springing to cover was wounded in the shoulder. Then
Crockett remained with the seventh rifle still loaded in his hands, as
there was nothing to shoot at, all the Mexicans now being hidden.
But Crockett, kneeling on the parapet, the rifle cocked and his finger
on the trigger, watched in case any of the Mexicans should expose
himself again. He presented to Ned the simile of some powerful animal
about to spring.
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