“I don’t know,” retorted Ernest, rather irritated, for men were putting the same question, one to another, and again the army were indignant with General Houston. “I suppose he wants to rest us up.”
“Shucks! I’m never too tired out to fight a Santa Anna Mexican,” proclaimed Sion. “That was a toler’bly smart march he put us through, anyway. And you fellows had a nice little scrimmage, while it lasted.”
“It’d have lasted longer if some of you other fellows had come out and backed us up,” accused Jim. “Then we could have gone on and taken Santa Anna and his whole bunch—just like Sherman intended.”
“How could we go out and back you up, when we didn’t have orders?” answered Leo. “One thing’s sure, though: we don’t retreat any more. If Houston wants to retreat, he’ll go alone. We’ve got Santa Anna pocketed and we’re going to put our hands on him while we can.”
But Ernest knew that General Houston had no notion of retreating.
“Young de Zavala’s come into camp,” remarked Leo, as if to end the discussion. “The colonel’s boy. Have you seen him?”
“No,” said Jim. “What’s his kind?”
“He’s all right,” assured Sion. “Smart little lad. He says he could see the battle from the house, but he wants to get a little closer. Brought his gun and fixin’s, and thinks maybe he’ll shoot Santa Anna—if Sam Houston lets us get close enough!”
“You wait till to-morrow. We’ll all be close enough,” prophesied Ernest.