"It's
never too late to hope."
The five rode fast the remainder of the day. They passed through a
silent and desolate land. They saw a few cabins, but every one was
abandoned. The deep sense of tragedy was over them all, even over young
Will Allen. They rarely spoke, and they rode along in silence, save for
the beat of their horses' hoofs. Shortly before night they met a lone
buffalo hunter whom the Panther knew.
"Have you been close to San Antonio, Simpson?" asked the Panther, after
the greeting.
"I've been three or four days hangin' 'roun' the neighborhood," replied
the hunter. "I came down from the northwest when I heard that Santa Anna
was advancing an' once I thought I'd make a break an' try to get into
the Alamo, but the Mexican lines was drawed too thick an' close."
"Have you heard anything about the men inside?" asked the Panther
eagerly.
"Not a thing. But I've noticed this. A mornin' an' evenin' gun was fired
from the fortress every day until yesterday, Sunday, an' since
then--nothin'."
The silence in the little band was as ominous as the silence of the
morning and evening gun. Simpson shook his head sadly.
"Boys," he said, "I'm goin' to ride for Gonzales an' join Houston.
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