“We sure did,” responded Jim. “And we said ‘yes.’ But a lot of ’em crawfished. I reckon we’re going, just the same.”
“I dunno,” opposed Sion, gloomily. “A lot of our fellows are on the fence, too. They think maybe we’re in a little too much hurry—had better wait a bit and make certain with more troops and cannon that Houston’s collecting. If we got wiped out in this one scrimmage that’d hold Texas for a while. Santa Anna’d simply smother what was left of us, and we’d never have another chance. Well, I can’t stay. I’m supposed to be where I belong, ready for three o’clock. See you in the morning.” And he trudged away.
“Shucks!” muttered Jim. “Looks as if we were going to back water, after all. Isn’t this the funniest army you ever were in?”
“I should say,” agreed Ernest—which was very true. “Wonder if they’re the same in Leo’s company?”
“It would be pretty hard on Texas families to have their men folks killed and nothing gained,” mused Jim. “I guess I don’t blame some of the troops for having two minds, now when it comes to the scratch and the odds are so big against us. If we didn’t take Bejar—whew! For we’d all fight till we were dead, that’s sure.”
Shortly after midnight Ernest was aroused from an uneasy sleep by a fresh stir among the prone lines. This is what had happened: Lieutenant-Colonel Philip Sublett, who now commanded their division, the second (for Colonel Bowie was already under orders to take dispatches to Goliad), had awakened General Austin, at headquarters, and had told him that the majority of the second division were in favor of postponing the attack. General Austin had sent for Colonel Ed. Burleson, of the First Division, and inquired of him; and Colonel Burleson had made a similar report.
Now Mr. Frank W. Johnson, the adjutant-general, was investigating for the general, to make certain; he was inquiring among the company officers. As the result, at three o’clock the companies, instead of being paraded for the attack, were ordered to stay as they were. There would be no attack. Colonel Burleson had offered to lead his division, anyway—that is, as many as would follow him; and the New Orleans Grays and the other United States volunteers were ready; but the Texan volunteers—shucks, as said Jim.
Leo and Sion and Jim and Ernest gathered after breakfast and talked the matter over. The whole camp was talking and arguing.
“You fellows in your division aren’t worth sour apples!” accused Leo, hotly, of Sion. “First you wanted to fight, and now you don’t.”
“We aren’t any worse than you are in your division,” retorted Sion. “Your colonel reported first. Burleson said he’d lead us—as many as would go.”