By this time the night was more than half gone, and the three began to look for the appearance of day.
The opinion of the Texan was that there would be a good deal of fighting on the morrow, as the Comanches would be likely to scatter in small bands through the country, seeking out the exposed settlers, and wreaking their revenge upon them, for the repulse they were sure to receive at the hands of the villagers.
This day would prove the dangerous one for the fugitives hiding beside the creek.
Through all the hurry and bustle of danger, Crockett had held fast to the bear-skin, which he had stripped from the body of the monster with whom he had such a hard combat upon entering the cabin of Hans Bungslager.
He now spread this upon the rock, as far back as they could penetrate, and invited Katrina to lie down and rest.
Her lover urged her to do the same, but she waited until his blanket was laid upon it, and then she reclined, and owing to her great fatigue almost immediately dropped asleep.
The two men advanced to the outer edge of rocks and sat down to consult a few moments upon the situation, and to speak without restraint regarding the disappearance of Hans Bungslager.
"I feel some hope regarding him," said the Texan, "but I can not call up any reason for such a hope."
"I believe he's gone under sure," replied Crockett; "they've managed to git him away from us and then knifed him so quick that he hadn't any time to make any noise about it."
"Poor Katrina! it will be a hard blow for her, for she dearly loved her uncle, who as dearly loved her."