“That was the day we left Washington, right after Captain Smith brought the message,” said Ernest. “This is Friday, isn’t it! Things look bad.”
“Yes, they do,” agreed Jim, thoughtfully. “I tell you, this town is mighty blue. Thirty of your Gonzales folks went out with Smith and Captain Martin and broke through to Travis before daylight of the first; and Captain Dickinson and several others are there, too. Of course, maybe Travis and Bowie are holding out, and the Mexicans are just sitting round. But we can’t get a word; the scouts we’ve sent out don’t dare go near. Say,” he added, “your pony’s here. Some of the crowd fetched him and Dick Carroll’s horse back from Burnam’s.”
“Good,” exclaimed Ernest. He would be glad to have Duke again. “Where’s Sion?”
“I saw Sion about a month ago, at San Felipe. He’d been putting in his crops down home. But we’ll meet up with him, all right, before this war’s much older. He’s game. Haven’t heard from Leo at all. He may be with Fannin or Johnson in the south. Hope not. They’re liable to be cut off, if Houston doesn’t hurry. He’s been re-elected general, hasn’t he?”
“Yes; fifty-five votes to one.”
“That’s good; but I’d rather have had Ben Milam. Houston will do, though. We need a military man, right bad. Most of the volunteers in this camp haven’t ever drilled; we’ve got only a few of the old bunch. Most of the veterans seem to have stayed at home to move their families. Everybody’s getting ready to light out for the east. But Burleson’s here, and Neill, and Karnes and Deaf Smith, and there’s one company of United States volunteers—the Newport Volunteers, from Kentucky—those fellows you see in uniform. Sidney Sherman’s their captain—that’s he, the slim man in a blue round-about trimmed with silver lace, with a sword on, talking to General Houston. He’s fine. We haven’t guns enough, and only two or three wagons, and three cannon. But we’ve got a flag—a new one. Sort of a cross between the American flag and the British flag, with the red and white stripes at the end, and the upper quarter next to the pole the British Union Jack and the lower quarter the Lone Star on a green ground; green instead of blue, for Mexico. Shows we’re Texans of Mexico from the United States, of English descent! Huh! Some flag, that! The motto says: ‘Our Country’s Rights or Death’! It belongs to Captain Moseley Baker’s company of militia from San Felipe. The Newport Volunteers brought a flag, too. It’s of heavy white silk, with the Goddess of Liberty in the middle and a gold fringe round the edge. The Newport ladies made it and Captain Sherman’s bride presented it. She gave him her glove, and told the company to carry it as a battle charm, and they’ve got it fastened to the top of the staff.”
Here Jim paused for lack of breath.
“Where are you camped, Jim?”
“Across the river, on outpost duty. Only two companies of us—the Bastrop company and the Newport Volunteers. The main crowd are camped on this side, half a mile below the ferry. Captain Baker’s in command till Houston or some other high officer takes things over. Colonel Neill and General Burleson are helping him. Well, I’ll see you later. Expect you want to get washed up and fed. Come over to camp this evening.” He turned away, but hesitated. “You did good work, carrying that Travis dispatch,” he praised, generously. “But you weren’t the only lad riding courier. When you went on up to Washington there was a copy sent down river to Columbia, and a fifteen-year-old by name of Guy Bryan rode with it on to Brazoria and clear to Velasco at the mouth of the Brazos. Used up one horse and had to find another.”
“Bully for him,” answered Ernest. “I didn’t do anything special.”