Ned's own throat had become parched again, but
he would not ask for another drop of water.
The Texans had used oxen to drag their cannon and wagons, and most of
them now lay dead about the rim of the shallow crater, slain by the
Mexican and Indian bullets. The others had been tied to the wagons to
keep them, when maddened by the firing, from trampling down the Texans
themselves. Now they still shivered with fear, and pulled at their
ropes. Ned felt sorry for the poor brutes. Full cause had they for
fright.
The afternoon was waning, and he ate a little supper, followed by a
single drink of water. Every man received a similar drink and no more
from the canteens. The coming twilight brought a coolness that was
refreshing, but the Indians, taking advantage of the dusk, crept
forward, and began to fire again at the Texans cooped up in the crater.
These red sharpshooters had the advantage of always knowing the position
of their enemy, while they could shift their own as they saw fit.
The Texan marksmen, worn and weary though they were, returned to their
task. They could not see the Indians, but they used an old device, often
successful in border warfare. Whenever an Indian fired a spurt of smoke
shot up from his rifle's muzzle.
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