“You fellows in on this?”
“Well, I should say!” asserted Leo.
“Wouldn’t miss it for all Texas,” added Sion.
“That’s what it means—all Texas,” answered Jim. “So long. See you later.” And they separated.
Already it was dusk; the time for the rendezvous at the old mill was near. Jim and Ernest rapidly overhauled their guns and ammunition, and stuffed some beef and bread into their pockets. Other volunteers were doing likewise. The camp was in a fever of anticipation. Now nobody hung back. The rank and file had been inspired by Ben Milam’s ringing challenge. This sudden action had been just the thing needed.
“Come on. Let’s go,” urged Ernest, as he noted men, by twos and threes, trudging away, well armed, for the mill.
“All right. I’m with you,” assented Jim. “No horses, I reckon. This is a foot job.”
Equipped for service, they joined the crowd at the old mill, around which camp had been established. Here they found Sion, with his long Kentucky rifle.
“Where’s Leo?” asked Ernest. “Thought he was with you.”
“Naw,” said Sion. “They’ve taken him with that Alamo bunch. He’s sore, too, but he had to go.”