“When we join Fannin, I reckon we’ll do something.”
“We’ll try hard.”
The enshrouded road became sandy, making bad going for the people afoot. Children whimpered, women panted, and even the volunteers trudged more and more slowly. The air was warm and lifeless.
On a sudden, after the march had continued for two hours, along the straggling column welled a cry, passing on lip to lip from rear to front. Ernest quickly turned his head. He had been half asleep. The western horizon was redly aglow.
“Gonzales! It’s a fire!”
“They’re burning the town!”
“Who’s doing that?”
“Did the rear guard have those orders?”
“There goes the only bit of property I have in the world.”
“Well, let the Mexicans come now. They’ll find nothing.”