It was nearly noon when Ned awoke, and he might not have awakened then
had not the sun from its new position sent a shaft of light directly
into his eyes. He saw that his precious rifle was still lying by his
side, and then he sprang to his feet, startled to find by the sun that
it was so late. He heard a loud joyous neigh, and a great bay horse
trotted toward him.
It was Old Jack, the faithful dumb brute, of which he had thought so
rarely during all those tense days in the Alamo. The Mexicans had not
taken him. He was here, and happy chance had brought him and his master
together again. It was so keen a joy to see a friend again, even an
animal, that Ned put his arm around Old Jack's neck, and for the first
time tears came to his eyes.
"Good Old Jack!" he said, patting his horse's nose. "You must have been
waiting here all the time for me. And you must have fared well, too. I
never before saw you looking so fat and saucy."
The finding of the horse simplified Ned's problem somewhat. He had
neither saddle nor bridle, but Old Jack always obeyed him beautifully.
He believed that if it came to the pinch, and it became necessary for
him to ride for his life, he could guide him in the Indian fashion with
the pressure of the knees.
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