He
had only four bullets left. He took them out and looked at them, little
shining pellets of lead. His life depended upon these four, and he must
not miss again.
It took him an hour to start his fire, and he ate only half of the
squirrel, putting the remainder into his bullet pouch for future needs.
Then, much invigorated, he resumed his vague journey. But he was
compelled very soon to go slowly and with the utmost caution. There were
even times when he had to stop and hide. Mexican cavalry appeared upon
the prairies, first in small groups and then in a detachment of about
three hundred. Their course and Ned's was the same, and he knew then
that he was going in the right direction. Fannin was surely somewhere
ahead.
But it was most troublesome traveling for Ned. If they saw him they
could easily ride him down, and what chance would he have with only four
bullets in his pouch? Or rather, what chance would he have if the pouch
contained a hundred?
The only thing that favored him was the creek which ran in the way that
he wanted to go. He kept in the timber that lined its banks, and, so
long as he had this refuge, he felt comparatively safe, since the
Mexicans, obviously, were not looking for him.
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