“From down on the Colorado? Yes, I’ve met up with him.”
XI
SAM HOUSTON COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF
“Let’s see,” spoke Leo, after he had put up his horse, and reported, and returned wiping his forehead with a bandanna handkerchief, to greet Sion, and to sit down, surrounded by his expectant cronies, Dick Carroll and several others. “You don’t care anything about my visit home. I was at the consultation most of the time, anyway, and slept outside, nights, in my blanket. So did the other fellows, except those that lived in the town.”
“Did you meet up with any of my folks?” asked Sion.
“I sure did, and Jim’s, too. They all sent their love. Well, the consultation met on the third, in that little old one-story convention hall that hasn’t any ceiling. There were fifty-five delegates, which didn’t leave much room for the rest of us. But all the big men were there, except Austin: J. A. Wharton, and Williamson (Three-legged Willie, you know), and de Zavala, the patriot, and Captain Fisher, of Gonzales, and Captain Burnam, and Dave Macomb, and A. Huston, of San Augustine, and Branch T. Archer, of Brazoria, and Sam Houston——.”
“What’d Sam Houston wear?” inquired Dick Carroll, pointedly.
“Buckskins and Mexican blanket, of course.”
“Looked like the best-dressed man, too; didn’t he?”