“Santa Anna first, then Cos!” was the cry.
But the general turned a deaf ear. To the officers he shook his head under its big whitish hat.
“No, gentlemen; not yet,” he opposed. “This is not the moment. The loss would be too heavy. I intend to conquer, slay and put to flight the entire Mexican army, and it shall not cost me a dozen of my brave men.”
“That’s right,” sung out a private. “Make it an easy-going fight, general.”
The cannon piece was still in the timber island; and Colonel Sherman begged for permission to go out and take it, with cavalry. The general finally consented that the cavalry should reconnoitre the timber, but not fight.
However, the fiery Colonel Sherman led straight to the island in the prairie. Suddenly the Mexican dragoons issued into the prairie, and out came the Mexican sharpshooters, too.
“Charge those dragoons, boys!” ordered Colonel Sherman. “Empty their saddles for them!”
“It’s a fight!” yelped Jim, gleefully, as the column half wheeled and in company front charged for the dragoons.
Chief Scout Handy was here, spurring on well to the front. So was Mr. Lamar. He had borrowed a horse and joined for the fun of the thing. A number of other riflemen had borrowed horses and volunteered. The dragoons stood their ground. Captain Handy fired; Jim fired; Ernest fired. All the men fired, and dragoons fell. The dragoons charged. The Texas rifles were empty and the long Kentucky rifles of the volunteer horsemen were hard to reload, on horseback. The Mexican infantry were double-quicking forward, and shooting. Alwyn Trask was knocked from his saddle with a broken thigh; Woodliffe was wounded; Walter Lane was cut off and almost surrounded—he was gone—no—see Lamar—see Lamar! He has sped for Lane, shoots a Mexican foot-soldier dead, rides right over a second, reaches Lane’s side, wrests the gun from the hand of another Mexican, and with Lane unharmed gallops back to the troop!