They tethered the mustangs near them, and spread out their blankets.
"If anything comes the horses will wake us," said Smith.
"I reckon they will," said Karnes.
Both were fast asleep in a few minutes, but they awoke shortly after
sunrise. They made a frugal breakfast, while the mustangs had cropped
short grass in the night. Both horses and men, as tough and wiry as they
ever become, were again as fresh as the dawn, and, with not more than a
dozen words spoken, the two mounted and rode anew on their quest. Always
chary of speech, they became almost silence itself as they drew nearer
to San Antonio de Bexar. In the heart of each was a knowledge of the
great tragedy, not surmise, but the certainty that acute intelligence
deduces from facts.
They rode on until, by a simultaneous impulse, the two reined their
horses back into a cypress thicket and waited. They had seen three
horsemen on the sky line, coming, in the main, in their direction. Their
trained eyes noticed at once that the strangers were of varying figure.
The foremost, even at the distance, seemed to be gigantic, the second
was very long and thin, and the third was normal. Smith and Karnes
watched them a little while, and then Karnes spoke in words of true
conviction.
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