Several hundred candles from the Mexican supplies were distributed and lighted; torch-light processions were formed, and parades given, while the whoops and songs shook the mosses hanging from the oaks.
Even Dick Carroll (who was unharmed, Ernest soon had learned) cut up as roundly as the others.
“We told ’em about the general, didn’t we!” he hailed, as arm in arm with a squad of cronies he pranced by.
“We sure did,” responded Ernest, who, with Jim and Leo and Sion, was waving his candle and prancing also.
“Biggest general that ever lived,” voiced Jim.
“And some smart man,” added Sion. “The top of the heap. It took nerve to manage this army but he had it.”
“Reckon we’ll make him president, now,” quoth Leo. “President of the Republic of Texas. He wouldn’t let the men shoot those ravens; did you hear? The ravens were flying over the battle-field, and he said not to hurt ’em. They were his bird and their heads were pointing westward. Maybe he’ll be president of Mexico, too, if we go on and take it.”
“The Raven’s his Indian name,” reminded Ernest, staunchly. “Of course he wouldn’t want one killed.”
“Well, General Sam Houston, hero of San Jacinto, is good enough name for me,” proclaimed Sion. “And any man who wears that name can take me through the mud wherever he pleases, after this.”
Yes, in the frolicking camp among the illuminated live-oaks the men were cheering for Sam Houston as much as they were for “Texas” and “Independence.” They seemed to forget they had complained of him and nagged him and called him a coward and threatened to leave him. They remembered only that he had struck at the right moment and had led them to a glorious victory.